When Love and Hate Collide
by RZZMG
Summary: During sixth year, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy are compelled by an ancient & powerful destiny to be together, but will their feelings for each other be enough to save Draco from the taint of his Dark Mark & his evil alter-ego, "Malfoy"? What happens when love and hate collide? Rev. 1 was a DRAMIONE AWARD WINNER in 4 categories! Rev. 2 underway-see profile for details.
1. Ch 1: Instigation

**REVISION 1.0 **(original public submission: 18 September, 2009)

**REVISION 2.0 **(as of: 3 May, 2011)

**STORY DETAILS:** A Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger fanfiction. The story follows the novel canon and the EWE (Epilogue, What Epilogue?) format. Characters are OCC (out-of-character) for the sake of this plot. This story's over-arcing plot is slow to be revealed, so stick with it, please, to the end (90 chapters + 2 epilogues + a separate 3-part aside story)! _**THIS IS A VERY DARK, ANGSTY, ROMANTIC STORY THAT HAS A HAPPY ENDING!**_

**TIMELINE:** Starts September, 1996 (will not give you an end date, as that would spoil the plot)

**SUMMARY:** During the beginning of their sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy are compelled by an ancient and powerful destiny to be together, but will their feelings for each other be enough to save Draco from the taint of his Dark Mark & his evil alter-ego, "Malfoy"? What happens when love and hate collide? The fate of the entire magical world is on the line this time - as well as a love that Heaven itself has fated.

**MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): **Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley

**SECONDARY** **CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): **Frederick Avery Jr., Susan Bones, Lavender Brown, Vincent Crabbe, Albus Dumbledore, Gregory Goyle, Mr. & Mrs. Granger, Astoria Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ernie Macmillan, Lucius Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy, Minerva McGonagall, Cormac McLaggen, Pansy Parkinson, Poppy Pomfrey, Gawain Robards, Madam Rosmerta, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Severus Snape, Angelina Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Bill Weasley, Fleur Weasley, George Weasley, Molly Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Voldemort + some original characters

**RATING:** M+/NC-17 (to include: consensual & non-consensual sex, masturbation, profanity, violent fighting, violent fighting leading to secondary character death, alcohol consumption; controversial topics include rape, pregnancy, bondage, sadism, masochism, attempted suicide, implied homosexuality, magical mental illness)

**IMAGES for this fanfic ****can be found here** (remove all spaces from the URL to make it load properly): s905 . photobucket albums / ac260 / RZZMG / When%20Love%20and%20Hate%20Collide

***ASIDE NOTES: **Spellings for various terms from the 'Potterverse' is double-checked with POTTERWORDS LIVEJOURNAL ( potterwords . livejournal . com), the most comprehensive and correct site for spellings from the UK and US versions of the novels. When there is an option, I have decided to use the U.S. spellings for words, rather than the U.K. version. Also, for the sake of this fic, I have converted all metric measurements to Standard System (U.S. units). Finally, there will be unique British-isms contained in this story. I have included a definition key for the lesser known/archaic words/phrases in the _AUTHOR'S NOTES_ section at the end of each chapter, just to cover the bases.

**STORY AWARDS:** This story was nominated for and won the following accolades:

_**2009 DRAMIONE AWARDS - FIRST PLACE: BEST NOVEL-LENGTH STORY**_

_**2009 DRAMIONE AWARDS - FIRST PLACE: BEST HERMIONE**_

_**2009 DRAMIONE AWARDS - FIRST PLACE: BEST ANGST**_

_**2009 DRAMIONE AWARDS - FIRST PLACE: BEST SMUT**_

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, and I make no profit from this work of art.

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_**WHEN LOVE AND HATE COLLIDE**_

**By: RZZMG**

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**Chapter One: Instigation **

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Monday, September 2, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione Granger looked over her paper schedule for the year and smiled enthusiastically. This year, she would finally catch up on her studies! Perhaps she could even regain her fallen spot as top of the class.

The last few years had been a real strain on her academic life. The Triwizard Tournament in her fourth year had caused her to worry more about her best friend, Harry Potter's safety than her own grades, and as a result, she'd turned in many projects and papers late – and been docked for it. Then there had been the romantic attention of Durmstrang's heartthrob, Viktor Krum; that hadn't helped her keep her head on straight either. Viktor's very presence at her table in the library, where she normally escaped to study alone, had distracted her concentration efforts, and her memory recall had suffered as a result. Her grades had begun to decline then. In fifth year, she'd had to contend with Professor Dolores Umbridge's successful coup of Hogwarts, and the responsibilities of helping Harry run Dumbledore's Army right under that foul woman's nose. Consequently, she'd slipped from her position as her year's first chair student, and was now second behind the Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan.

Such a lapse was simply unacceptable. It was time to get her nose – and her mind - back into books.

Thankfully, her third year "acceleration efforts" with the Time Turner were working to her advantage now. She would begin this first semester taking advanced classes with the sixth and seventh year students in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, her two favorite courses. The remainder of her daily schedule for the first term was booked with the standard, required magical program for her age group, however, consisting of Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Term two would cover Astronomy, Charms, and Transfiguration, while term three encompassed Care of Magical Creatures, the History of Magic, and the easiest subject of all for her - Muggle Studies. Also, with the advance permission of Professor Dumbledore, she had opted to take on extra after-school, specialized subjects: Wizarding Law, to be taught by Professor Binns on Tuesday evenings after dinner in term one, and in term two, Controlling Elemental Magic with Professor Flitwick on Thursday evenings.

With such an arsenal of knowledge at her command, Hermione hoped that she would receive all "Outstanding" marks on her Ordinary Wizarding Level exams, which the Ministry of Magic, now under the guidance of Rufus Scrimgeour, had given permission for last year's fifth level class to retake at the end of this year. Soon after Scrimgeour took over, the Ministry realized they'd have a serious problem of enrollment for this year at Hogwarts – that is, people pulling their kids out of Ministry-approved and observed programs to home-school instead – if their children weren't even learning how to pass their O.W.L.s because of Ministry politics. To prevent a funding problem, the Ministry decided that a retesting would be in order for all fifth years at the end of their sixth year. That pretty much guaranteed that most people would get high marks on their O.W.L.s, their parents would be pleased, attendance would not become an issue (and neither would funding), and then Hogwarts could go back to normal next year.

If Hermione received straight "Outstanding" marks on all of her O.W.L.s this time around (she'd received a single "Exceed Expectations" out of the eleven tests she had taken, and that had miffed her), then she could regain her place as top of the class. Her goal was to graduate as Valedictorian, as she'd had her eye on attending Yvelinnes Wizarding University in Paris post-Hogwarts. The competition for Y.W.U. was fierce, however, with wizards and witches from the dozens of worldwide magical schools, as well as those who'd been magically home-schooled, all vying for one of the forty-five semi-annual open slots. Her N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests) would all have to be exceptional, and her list of advanced studies and extra-curricular classes impressive.

She looked back at the schedule and suddenly felt a little trepidation. It was going to be a daunting and intense year. Was she up for it all? She shook her head, silencing her doubts. She'd take it one day at a time, and put her head into the workload. She'd grind the parchment. She'd focus. She could do this!

Her stomach unexpectedly growled and knocked her from her reverie, reminding her of more immediate, pressing needs. She sighed, checked her magical pocket Sandkeeper, and picked up the pace, hurrying along the corridor to the Great Hall to meet up with her friends for breakfast. There would only be forty minutes to relax and eat before the beginning of her first class of the day.

Rounding the corner at a near jogging speed, she didn't see the student standing in her path until it was too late. They collided hard, and she stumbled, her books tumbling from her arms as she started to fall backwards. A pair of strong hands grabbed her in reflexive response, and Hermione clung to her savior, breathing hard at the close call. "I'm so sorry!" she muttered, positively mortified. "Please forgive my clumsiness."

The hands that had preserved her just a moment before suddenly released her, jerking back as if they had been burned, and this time, Hermione did stumble. Luckily, she caught her balance against the wall, preventing further humiliation, but the strap of her favorite, careworn shoulder bag finally gave as she fell against it, and the whole kit tumbled to the ground at her feet.

An all-too-familiar voice reproached her loudly and disdainfully. "Watch where the bloody hell you're going, Granger!"

Hermione sighed in dismay and glanced up and through her chestnut-brown curls at Draco Malfoy, the bully of Hogwarts. Of all the people to have run into, literally! She cursed her luck.

Malfoy took a quick step back, treating her as if she carried the plague and sneered at her. "Your filthy germs are all over my new robes now," he rudely commented, pointing to his fashionably tailored, expensive wool school uniform and Italian leather shoes.

Behind Slytherin's Prince, his longtime, sidekick troublemakers – Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - sniggered. Hermione's cheeks flushed in anger and felt her courage buck up. "Up yours, Malfoy, you stuck-up prat," she contemptuously spat back.

Draco's face became a dark cloud of anger and his jaw clenched. He stepped towards her, looming and blocking her view of anyone else but him. "Who do you think you're calling a prat, you filthy, little Mudblood?"

She put her fists on her hips, and stood her ground. Draco Malfoy had bullied her for the last five years, but Hermione wasn't afraid of him. She'd made him tremble before her wand several times in the past, and once she even smacked him across his smug, arrogant face, causing him to break off his cruel jeering and bolt to save his scrawny bum from her full wrath. "You're a despicable human being," she threw back between clenched teeth, refusing to be intimidated. "Being pureblood doesn't make you smarter or better than anyone else. It just makes you more of a snobbish bigot and moral coward."

This comment seemed to enrage the wizard before her. His face turned bright red as heated blood flooded into his cheeks, and his fists balled up at his sides, but Hermione refused to be cowed by his threatening demeanor. He wouldn't dare strike her for her words, especially with so many witnesses around. But if, for some reason, he did try hitting her, she'd hex him all the way home to his mother. They both knew that Hermione was the better magic practitioner between them.

For the space of a dozen heartbeats, their eyes locked and the air thickened with their undisguised hatred of each other.

Unexpectedly, Malfoy's sneer transformed into a wicked smirk, his fists relaxed and he crossed his arms instead. He leaned back on his heels with an arrogant tilt to his chin, seemingly more amused by the entire affair than outraged. Hermione blinked once, twice in surprise, thrown off guard by the swift and unexpected de-escalation of the violence level between them. She started back, frowning, suddenly suspicious. What game was he playing at now?

Malfoy's smug smile abruptly dropped away, and his cold, ash-colored eyes began languidly appraising her from the top of her curly, carelessly styled hair down to her breasts, where they lingered for a few seconds before continuing on down, stalling again at where her knees peeked out from under her uniform's skirt. When his gaze met the tips of her practical, inexpensive shoes, he swiftly reversed course, again hesitating on the more obvious feminine parts of her anatomy.

Warning bells went off in Hermione's head, and she became uncharacteristically unnerved, feeling weirdly violated by Malfoy's indolent examination of her person. She crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture, glaring up at him, tense and readying for his next move. Her wand was in her bag on the floor, but she could reach it if she had to with a quick bend of her knees, and prepared a defensive spell on her lips just in case.

His gaze paused and lingered an extra second over her lips before lazily sweeping upwards to finally reconnect with her stare. She'd expected him to begin round two of the taunting at that point, but instead, he remained oddly mum. Instead, something dark, hot and hungry slid through his eyes, changing the steel-white rims a shadowy sable, and giving him a more sinister, seductive expression. He licked his lips with what might be deemed anticipation.

Riotous butterflies erupted in Hermione's stomach in response, triggering a prey's biologic response to being faced down by a hungry predator. Her heart picked up its paces, hammering under her ribs, her breath hitched in her lungs, and her mind went utterly blank. In short, she simply froze up, and was suddenly very afraid for her safety and worse - of wanting to respond to what called out to her from behind Draco Malfoy's eyes. Like a pixie to laminar flame, she was irresistibly drawn to the things his heated stare promised.

From the time she'd realized she loved Ron back in her fourth year, Hermione had believed that she had also desired him. Now she knew beyond a doubt that any feeling she had previously experienced for her beloved ginger-haired friend and this feeling _now_ that made her body flush with need – and directed towards her greatest rival, to her utter mortification - were two completely different things. Romantic love was _not_ the same as sexual attraction, and the two weren't necessarily congruous.

Somewhere in the castle, the eighth hour bell tolled and the moment between she and Malfoy passed. As if on cue, her stomach growled again, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since last night, well over twelve hours ago. She put a hand on her tummy and sighed. Now there was only thirty minutes left until classes began – hardly enough time for a proper breakfast!

She chanced a glance back up at Malfoy, who hadn't budged an inch, and she realized that she was really very annoyed with him. How dare he so brutally embarrass her for something that had been an innocent accident! She hadn't asked to bump into him. She'd have preferred a Malfoy-free day, in fact, given all of the self-imposed stress she was under. He was such an unbelievable git.

Dismissively turning her nose up at him with all of the disdain she could muster, she bent to retrieve her books. As she reached out for one particular tome, Malfoy's foot unexpectedly stomped down on it, then shoved it with enough pressure to send it spinning across the polished granite floor, away from her outstretched fingers. She glanced up at him again, irked by his senseless cruelty. His malicious smirk was back. "Right where you belong, Mudblood - on your hands and knees before me," he mocked. Before she could retort, he turned about, retrieved his leather satchel from Goyle, who had undoubtedly taken it from Malfoy's hands when this whole fiasco had begun, and he and his snickering friends continued on down the passage towards the Great Hall without another word.

The haughty, sadistic snot! Days like today were exactly the reason why she had hated Malfoy.

Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood, the strange girl with whom Hermione had a tentative new friendship with, bent at Hermione's side and helped her to collect the remainder of her books. When the pile was once more assembled, Hermione turned to her. "Thank you so much, Luna," she gratefully acknowledged. "I appreciate your help."

"Oh, it's all right," Luna hypnagogicly stated, glancing at Hermione through a pair of reflective, blue-tinted eyeglasses. The strange contraption – which Luna claimed helped her to see the imaginary creatures known as "Gawoozles" - perched on the edge of her nose. "I'm used to Draco Malfoy doing the same thing to me on occasion. Don't let him bother you, though." She leaned closer, as if to impart an important secret. "He's a magnet for Ehdis, the poor guy." She sadly shook her head.

Hermione stared at Luna in silence for a moment, considering a tactful way to ask what exactly an Ehdis was. Before she could do so, however, Luna smiled, turned and skipped off towards the Great Hall for breakfast, leaving their strange encounter behind without a second thought. Hermione smiled and shook her head. Her new friend had a good heart, even if she was a little looney-tooney.

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_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER ONE:**

**Future fun plot hint: If you were looking into the Mirror of Erised, what would 'Ehdis' spell? **

**MUSICAL SELECTIONS FOR THIS CHAPTER: **

"_**Extraordinary" by Mandy Moore **_**  
**

"_**How Does It Feel?" by Avril Lavigne**_**  
**


	2. Ch 2: Decisions

**Chapter Two: Decisions**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Monday, September 16 – Thursday, September 19, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast in the Great Hall, across from her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. "Morning," she tersely replied, setting her repaired (but still ratty) shoulder bag down next to her on the wooden bench.

"Morning," they mumbled back, instantly sensitive to her tense mood.

Harry wordlessly handed her a mug of strong English breakfast tea, while Ron passed her a small plate. She took both with a curt nod of thanks even as she caught the two trade a secret look out of her peripheral vision. It was obvious from that silent exchange that they believed it to be that "time of the month" for her again by the way she had greeted them. As her best friends for the past five years, the two boys had come to realize that they needed to carefully word their sentences and requests around Hermione when she was having her period; it was safest all around for them to do so, for she was, after all, a pretty powerful witch. So, it was by unspoken agreement that the three adhered to the idea that for seven days out of every month, they behaved much more respectful of each other's personal space than usual. Apparently, Ron and Harry believed today was Day One. It wasn't, but Hermione was certainly more sensitive and agitated than usual this morning, so she allowed them to believe whatever they wanted. She'd apologize to them later.

The truth was that she was stressed out from the extra workload she was carrying and exhausted from lack of sleep. Her advanced classes required a lot of reading, so she'd spent most of her free hours and up late into the early mornings studying. There had been the autumnal change in weather; she hated lightning storms, as they tended to keep her awake. But the most intolerable thing of all was that for the past few weeks, since their collision in the corridor that fateful morning, Draco Malfoy kept staring at her. At every meal she'd had in the Hall, at every class they shared, or when they passed each other in the corridors, she'd catch him openly watching her. And during those moments when their eyes would connect, he'd wag his eyebrows at her and smirk, or stare at her like he was considering her from all angles, and in a new light. Every bloody time she turned around, there he was!

What Hermione couldn't figure out was why Malfoy was spending so much time actively antagonizing her now. Their run-ins had always been unpredictable one-shots in the past, so what had changed? She couldn't decipher a reason, and that mystery irritated her, blackened her mood, and distracted her in moments when she should have been concentrating on more important things.

It was Viktor Krum all over again, minus the good feelings.

While passing her a tea refill, Hermione noted that Ron once again pulled his fingers away before they accidentally brushed against hers. For some reason, instead of finding this behavior charming as she previously had, today it felt rather childish. She was turning seventeen this week, he was just sixteen. Couldn't they act like the almost-adults that they were and talk about their feelings yet? She knew he liked her, and she him, so what was the problem with them touching? She almost said something biting to that effect, but at the last moment, clamped her mouth closed. She wouldn't accomplish anything but to make him angry if she pointed out his emotional procrastination.

"Did you get your homework done for Potions yet?" Ron asked, blushing.

She nodded, inwardly cringing at the same time. She didn't want to be reminded of Potions class just that minute. It was her only class for the day, and she was dreading it, because she knew Malfoy would be there.

She reached into the center of the table to grab a scone, and her eyes shot past Harry's left shoulder to spy movement beyond. Malfoy was sitting at Slytherin's table across the room, and again, he was staring at her, openly smirking. As soon as she saw him, her gut tightened and she lowered her eyes, uncomfortable with the exchange. Quickly making the decision to leave for class to avoid the awkward contest of wills with the snake, she started gathering up her things. "I'm going to head off to Potions a little early today. Do you want to come?" she asked them, hoping they didn't notice the way her cheeks were heated. The two boys seemed startled by her pronouncement and they shared another quick glance.

Annoyed with their surreptitious communication, Hermione chugged the rest of her tea, grabbed a scone and a napkin for the road, and with a murmured, "See you later, then," she leapt to her feet and rushed away.

When she'd reached the edge of the Slytherin table, a hop away from the exit, Harry's hand grabbed her robes. "Hermione, wait!" he called out a little more loudly than she would have liked. They both stopped and she turned to him. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "So, um, your birthday is this Thursday, right? You'll be seventeen. Ron and I wanna know if there is something special you wanted? You know, to mark your passage into adulthood and all that."

Hermione honestly couldn't think of a thing to ask for. She shook her head and readjusted the strap across her body, to redistribute the weight of her book bag. "I don't really need anything, Harry." She kissed his cheek. "Thanks anyway, though. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness. Ron's too." With that, she left.

**X~~~~~X**

By six o'clock on Thursday night, Hermione had completed all of her homework for this week's Arithmancy and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and she had already read chapters one through five of her Wizarding Law compendium to prepare for her private lesson next week. She'd buried her nose in her books as much as possible, tuning out the bad weather, finding the rhythm to her new schedule's demands, and ignoring Malfoy completely. As a result, she'd finally achieved a comfortable equilibrium. It was now time to catch some dinner, followed by a leisurely evening of lounging and light reading in the Gryffindor common room.

As she walked from her dormitory to the Great Hall, she passed by Katie Bell, Jimmy Peakes, Demelza Robins, Cormac McLaggen, Dean Thomas and Ritchie Coote, all members of the Gryffindor Quidditch main and reserve teams, on their way back in from practice. She traded waves and greetings with them, stopping long enough to extricate her hand from Cormac's, after he'd reached out and grabbed her in an overly enthusiastic, and very unwelcome manner. In their wake followed the rest of the team: Harry, Ron, and her best girlfriend, Ginny Weasley. Everyone looked exhausted, and they were dirty. Immediately, Hermione offered to go down to the kitchens and ask a house-elf to provide some hot meals up to the Gryffindor common area so the team wouldn't have to drag themselves all the way down stairs to eat after cleaning up. As Captain, Harry agreed and thanked her. He then made her promise to come back up immediately after. That settled, she headed for the Entrance Hall to the stairwells leading down into Hogwarts dungeon-basement area, where the kitchens were located.

As she walked, she smiled and began humming, light-hearted for the first time in weeks. Primarily, the reason was that Hermione had guessed earlier in the week that her friends were going to throw her a small, surprise birthday party tonight. The plan hadn't been too difficult to smoke out, however, as Ron, Harry, and Ginny would all stop whispering and jump apart as soon as she walked into any room. Her friends were no masters of cloak-and-dagger tactics, but she loved them for their efforts and their kindness. She really was the luckiest girl alive to have such wonderful friends!

That coupled with the good news she'd received yesterday – namely, a note from Professor Binns explaining that the topic of next week's Wizarding Law lesson would be the Wizengamot – and her attitude overall had improved remarkably from the previous week.

To tell the truth, Hermione was ecstatic to finally study the role of the wizarding High Courts. Secretly, the infamous Death Eater Trials of the 1980's had mesmerized her since her third year at Hogwarts, when she'd first heard of Sirius Black. According to the letters he'd later traded with Harry, his trial had been ruthlessly dispatched by the court outside the parameters of normal legal protocol, and all in the name of public safety. Consequently, an innocent man had been locked up in Azkaban for years, made to suffer at the hands of the vile Dementors. In fourth year, she'd seen the Unforgivable Curses in person, and as a result of that rather loathsome demonstration by Professor Moody – actually it had been Barty Crouch Jr. in a Polyjuice Potion disguise – she had felt compelled to learn all she could about the trio of evil curses. That research, in turn, directly affected her ideas of wizarding crime and punishment, and brokered an understanding – although not an endorsement – of how and why the courts had handled Sirius' case as they had.

This past summer, she'd gone frequently to the Ministry of Magic to dig into their public documents about various laws and precedents governing wizarding educational institutions in an effort to foster an understanding of how the events of her fifth year – specifically regarding Professor Umbridge's displacement of Professor Dumbledore as Headmaster of Hogwarts - could have legally been allow to occur. At the same time, she'd also looked up information on the rules governing non-human magical beings, hoping to find some significant ruling on the minimum moral treatment of house-elf servants. Throughout it all, she had discovered something profound about herself: wizarding law enthralled her, because if there was one thing Hermione Granger appreciated, it was organized regulation – logical structure combined with the ideals of justice, equality and fairness.

Although she hailed from a family of Muggle dentists, both of whom wanted her to follow in their footsteps, Hermione believed now that her own path lay down the road towards the Law. Magical Law, specifically. It seemed an excellent fit to her personality. Hence the reason her mood had been, and now was, elevated to such energetic levels.

No sir, this week hadn't turned out badly at all!

Engrossed as she was with thoughts of her future career path, Hermione wasn't paying attention to where she was heading. When she reached the bottom of the stairs in the Entrance Hall, she accidentally took a right turn down another flight of stairs. Upon later analysis, she realized the mistake had been an easy one make, as the kitchens were a right turn if you'd been coming in through the Great Entrance. However, taking a right turn while standing at the bottom of the grand stairwell, facing the Great Entrance, ended up directing her into the labyrinth dungeons instead. Of course, Hermione hadn't realized her mistake until she was good and lost in the maze that was the basement of Hogwarts. Half way down the first corridor she realized her error and turned to go back, only the stairwell wasn't there anymore; a blank stone wall with a lit torch hanging from a sconce faced her instead.

"Why is this bloody castle always changing?" she murmured with a sigh.

Quick on her feet in a sticky situation, Hermione determined that the easiest way to get back to what she knew was to find something familiar. She'd been in the dungeons many times over the years for various reasons, so she'd try to find her Potions classroom, since she knew the way out from there. Ten minutes later, when her attempts ended in fruitless frustration, she tried instead to find Professor Snape's office, which she knew to be near the Potions classroom. Again, she had no luck. She changed tactics at that point, and tried for the Hufflepuff and/or Slytherin common rooms instead, knowing them to be against the basement's outer most walls. Try as she might, however, she couldn't seem to locate the exterior curtain of the castle. Every way she turned there were only dead ends, closets or empty rooms, and nothing was at all familiar.

After an hour of searching for any sign of life or an exit, Hermione began to panic. She aimlessly ran up and down the corridor, and opened a random door, hoping to get lucky.

On the other side of the door was a classroom with traditional school desks. Dust on the floor and desk tops proclaimed that classes were no longer being taught in this room. Still, that meant she was close to finding a way out, as most classrooms were close to the stairwells. Above her, embedded into the ceiling, a strange yellowish light flickered into existence. Its luminosity was that of candlelight. An automatic spell, she guessed, activated whenever someone moved about the room. Her Potions class had something very similar, as did most other windowless areas in the castle.

On the far side of the long room, she spied another door. Perhaps this was the way out, as she'd seen no stairwells on her side. Hermione crossed the threshold, and the door closed behind her. Only then did she feel the odd tingling sensation travel down her spine. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she raced to the opposite door and tried to open it. It was locked fast. _"Alohamora,"_she called out, waving her wand at the keyhole. She tried the door again – no dice.

Screaming behind her teeth in frustration, she kicked the wooden portal in agitation, turned around and headed back across the room to the door she'd come through. To her exasperation, it, too, was locked fast. She tried the unlocking spell again, but like its twin, the door held against her attempts to open it. Casting every jinx and spell she knew on both doors, trying to blast, burn, and freeze either of them down, did nothing more than exhaust her as her magic was somehow nullified by the room. She resorted to physical attacks with her fists, pounding against the solid oak frame, and finally picking up a chair and smashing it against the door. It didn't budge.

Merlin help her, she was trapped!

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_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWO:**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

"_**Right Now" by Atomic Kitten**_** (Hermione's thoughts about Ron). **


	3. Ch 3: Madness

**Chapter Three: Madness**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Thursday, September 19, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione began calling out for help, tears of frustration and terror gathering in her eyes. Despite her amazing magical abilities, she felt utterly powerless, and prayed that anyone alive – or even dead, if she could reach one of the castle ghosts – would hear her and open the door from the other side. No one answered, however. The pounding and screaming for help continued for over twenty minutes, until at last her voice began to crack and the seeping cold of the room began to take its toll. She wrapped her arms about her middle to try to stop the uncontrollable shivering while silently cursing her stupidity. She'd forgotten to take her thickly-lined robes along with her on her way down to the kitchens, so all she was wearing was her winter school uniform. Her pleated, woolen skirt barely covered her knees, and her dress shirt was made of cotton and hardly enough protection from the chill. Only her woolen jumper and socks were keeping some heat inside. If only she could use a Warming Charm!

"Oh, please, someone open the door!" she shouted, collapsing against the solid wood, practically sobbing now.

"Granger, is that you?"

She recognized the deep voice coming from the other side of the door on the opposite end of the room immediately and breathed a sigh of relief, even knowing who her rescuer would be. "Malfoy, thank puckles you're here!" she cried out, standing and trying to work the numbness out of her legs. "Can you get the door open on your side?"

"What are you doing down here, you daft woman?" he demanded, his voice muffled by the wooden portal between them.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Malfoy," she chastened him. "Just try the door."

The handle on the door opposite turned, and Draco Malfoy stood framed in the entrance. He spied her, his face slanting into the all-too familiar mask of snide, cold irritation as he stepped inside the room. "Granger, why are you-?"

Her scream cut him off in mid-sentence. "Catch the door!"

He turned a second too late, as the door latched shut behind him. Hermione made her way across the room on shaky legs and shoved him aside as she tried the door again, hoping against hope. When she realized it was useless, she turned on him. "You idiot!" she shrieked. "The room is magicked shut with some sort of powerful spell. There's no way to open it from the inside."

Slytherin's Prince looked panicked at first, but then all-too-familiar anger found its way back into his demeanor and voice. "Well, why the hell didn't you say so before I'd opened the bloody door?"

Hermione continued banging away on the exit, even as she yelled at him. "Duh! Didn't you feel the tingling sensation when you crossed in? Whatever spell is present here, it seals you in, and takes your magic away at the same time."

Whipping out his wand from an inside pocket of his robe, Malfoy pointed at the door. "Get out of the way, Granger."

She made a grand flourish with her hands for him to try his luck. "Be my guest," she snapped, and went to sit down in one of the classroom chairs for a rest. Laying her forehead down on the cool wood of the desk in front of her, she closed her eyes for a moment to reclaim her center and regain her perspective.

After a minute of no sound, Hermione looked up with confusion. Wasn't Malfoy trying to open the door yet? Yes, it turned out he was, in fact, making such an attempt - only not at all in the manner she'd expected: he was waving his wand in a variety of dramatic gestures, concentrating on the door, but not calling out his spell attempts.

He was able to cast a _repertoire_ of non-verbal spells? But, that was impossible! They'd only started practicing such spells at the beginning of this term in D.A.D.A. class.

The only non-verbal she could cast (and not always with complete success, as it required a great deal of mental focus) in such a manner was the Shield Charm. Yet, here was Draco magicking away in silence a _variety_ of spells that she recognized by the wand motions. How could this be? Yes, he'd always seemed gifted, and he was studious - in the top ten in their grade - but being able to execute so many spells with what appeared to be skill (insofar as the flicks of the wand were performed) at their age was unprecedented!

"How did you learn so many non-verbal incantations?" she asked, stunned and shaken by what she was witnessing. "Did you read ahead and practice from the _Standard Book of Spells_ before the term began?"

Malfoy gave the door one last attempt, and then turned to her, lowering his wand. "Looking to steal my secrets, Miss Know-It-All?"

She shook her head. "No. I just… I didn't know someone our age could do that yet."

At her words, Malfoy puffed up with exaggerated pride. "Well, I've been able to do N-Vs since third year, but I've been casting spells since I was a child. I was six when I first forced the lock on my room and snuck out." He threw down in the chair opposite her and smirked. "So you can't do non-verbals other than what we've already done in D.A.D.A. then?"

She was too enervated to reply. Instead, she stared into Malfoy's grey, taunting eyes with dismay.

"Ha! It must burn you up that I can, huh, Granger?" he crowed, taking pleasure once more from her pain. He sat up and leaned towards her, grinning like a shark. "It's a change, isn't it? Miss Perfect doesn't know everything after all."

She bristled and a tiny flame of ire bloomed within her chest. "Are you lying to me?"

He grew outraged at the implied accusation in her tone. "No, it's the truth! What's the matter, can't handle that someone's better than you for once?"

Hermione felt suddenly, very profoundly diminished by his candid, unmistaken censure. She hadn't even cast her first spell until the spring of her twelfth year, just before she'd received her Hogwarts letter. She didn't know anything about the realm of the "supernatural" nor her magical prodigy status until that moment, and it wasn't until she was visited by Minerva McGonagall later that summer she came to understand that a greater destiny awaited her than dental school. Malfoy had been a child of six when the magic had come upon him, and now at sixteen, he could cast multiple spells without uttering a word. Did that mean that he was better coupled to the magic than she? Could he then be right in his foul prejudices? Did being the daughter of two Muggles mean that her own connection to the magic would never be as strong as that of a pureblood, as he'd always insisted?

Unexpectedly, Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and with a heaving sob, they burst out of her and fell down her cheeks in hot rivulets. She buried her face in her hands, crying her heart out. She never realized until that very second that she was capable of feeling such terrible, unequivocal jealously – and of a worm like Draco Malfoy, no less.

How could this be?

Once the storm of her weeping had passed many minutes later, anger interjected once more. She'd let Malfoy see her cry. She'd even let him know what secretly hurt her! He had all of the ammo he now needed to humiliate her for the rest of her days at Hogwarts. Of all the stupid things to do! She was rubbing at her cheeks, trying to scrub the proof of her weakness away, when a soft piece of cloth was suddenly shoved into her hand. When she opened it, there appeared a silken white handkerchief with a green, silk thread embroidered "DLM" on the hem. She glanced up at Malfoy, who stood a couple of feet away, his back to her.

"Wipe your stupid face, Granger."

It wasn't said kindly, but she didn't push him as to why he would even bother showing her any charity. He'd been the one to make her cry in the first place, after all. Perhaps he felt a little guilty about it. Perhaps he just didn't know how to hold onto anger or how to be cruel when a woman cried. Some men were like that. She wiped her tears away and then pretend-blew her nose in his hanky just to be spiteful.

"I _so_ don't want that back," he stated, thoroughly disgusted.

Perhaps it was a result of the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on for weeks, but Hermione couldn't help but giggle in response. Malfoy turned a troubled face her way, and that made her tiny giggle morph into a full-blown laugh.

"Are you cracking up, Granger? 'Cause if you are, I'm leaving you in here when I escape finally. I can't stand nutters."

She laughed for a good half a minute over that one, then shook her head and waved a hand in negation. "No, I just think you're really funny sometimes, Malfoy."

He stared at her hard for another few seconds. With a '_tetch_' made in distaste, he walked over to the second door and began pushing on it with one hand again. "So, how are we going to get out of here anyway? Got any ideas, Miss Brilliant?"

She sobered and considered their situation. "Well, how did you find me?"

There was a palatable, pregnant pause before he answered. "I… was on my way to the bathroom when I heard you yelling." He paused continuing to push on the door. "I don't think you'll be that lucky a second time, though."

She raised an eyebrow to his cryptic answer. "And why not? You have a common bathroom for the whole floor, right? Same as we do on the seventh floor, outside Gryffindor Tower. Someone's bound to leave the Slytherin area to go use it."

Again, he didn't immediately answer her, and she sensed he was reluctant to divulge any more information than necessary. With a huff in exasperation, he kicked the door. "I wasn't coming from the Slytherin common room or my dorm, okay?"

"Then where were you coming from?" she pushed. "Maybe someone else will come from that direction, too, looking for the bathroom or the basement exit."

He shook his head and snorted. "Doubtful." He turned away from the door and stared at her across the room, his eyes hooded exactly as they had been that morning in the hallway when they'd had their silent showdown. That enigmatic hot-cold look made her shiver.

A dark thought took hold in her mind, and before she could stop herself, she was divulging it in the form of a question. "Where were you coming from, Draco? Why were you down here, if not for a school-related function?"

His eyes narrowed and he seemed to consider something for a moment, and then he quickly closed the space between them, stopping just shy of touching her. He was so close that she could actually feel his breath on her cheek as he exhaled, and it took a tremendous effort of will not to turn away. She managed to return his gaze, stare-for-stare.

"Do you _really_ want to know, Hermione?"

She felt her eyes widen with shock at the sultry tone he fired her way, and at the fact that he'd used her first name in that same breathy voice. This was the first time he'd ever called her anything other than either her family name or some derogatory label in their six year hate-hate acquaintance. A little voice in the back of her brain further reminded her that he hadn't once called her Mudblood since he'd come into the room, either.

_And what about the use of his handkerchief?_ she wondered. He'd actually given it to her in a gesture that could be described as kind.

All of these things put together were very uncharacteristic actions for Malfoy, and made Hermione instantly wary. What was he up to? Was he actually flirting with her?

As soon as she thought it, she realized how ridiculous that sounded. Malfoy would never flirt with her. He'd insult her, trip her up, and make her uncomfortable as heck, but no, he would _never, ever_ press advances upon her. He was indubitably just toying with her this time – same as always. Clearly, he'd come from the dorms and stumbled upon her quite by accident after hearing her screams. Yes, that was all there was to it. This game he'd been playing with her for the past few weeks was all nothing more than a non-standardized approach to the typical Draco Malfoy ploy: bait, switch and humiliate.

Well, she refused to let him affect her!

She firmly nodded in response to his provocative question. "Yes, I want you to tell me. Where were you before you found me tonight? What brought you past this area? It might be important to our getting out of here sooner rather than never."

"Okay," he conceded with a light shrug. "Don't forget that you asked, though."

She nodded in agreement to the condition, knowing the climax of this story was going to be rather disappointing and obvious in the end. Malfoy was nothing if not a predictable showman. "Fine, fine."

Reaching into one of the pockets in his robes, he pulled out a small, white, flat box. It wasn't gift wrapped, there wasn't a bow on it, and there was no name tag or card to indicate who it was for, but he presented it to her nonetheless. She suspiciously looked at it in silence for half a minute, not sure what to do. "Well, are you going to take it or not?" he demanded, shoving it closer to her chest.

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Will it bite, dissolve or explode if I do?"

As soon as she'd said it, she regretted it. Draco's face reddened, he frowned and started to pull the gift away. Ashamedly, she realized that she'd just done to him what he'd been doing to her for years, and the revenge didn't feel good or right. Being cruel wasn't in her nature. She quickly reached out and grabbed the box from him. "I'm… sorry," she apologized. "That wasn't very nice to say."

He didn't reply, just watched her finger the package.

She gave him a shy smile. "Thank you, but what's it for?"

He sighed, running his hand through his short hair in frustration. "Your birthday, stupid."

Again, he surprised her. "How did you know that today was my birthday?"

He looked away, and she could tell he was debating whether to tell her the truth or not. "Pansy overheard the She-Weasel talking in the hallway to her boyfriend. She told him she couldn't meet him on Thursday night because everyone planned you a party for your seventeenth birthday."

"_You_ got me a present for my birthday." she stated, dumbstruck.

"Obviously," he replied.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER THREE:**

**N-V's = **My shorthand for 'non-verbal spells.'

**Birthdays = **Remember, Hermione was born September 19, 1979. She started Hogwarts at the age of 12 on September 1, 1991. She is almost six months older than Ron, almost eight months older than Draco, and a little more than nine months older than Harry.

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

**_"Unusual You" by Britney Spears_ (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	4. Ch 4: Birthday

**Chapter Four: Birthday**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland_**

**_Thursday, September 19, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)_**

She turned Draco's gift box over and over in her hands. "What is it?"

Malfoy chuckled. "For someone so smart, you are really dense sometimes, Granger." He pointed at the box. "If you open it, you'll find out."

Nervously tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she gave him another apprehensive smile and then removed the lid from the box. Inside was a red, iridescent ribbon curled up in a precise circular pattern. She carefully lifted it off the silken cloth filler and unraveled it. The instant her fingers touched the material, it lit up and shimmered with ruby-colored magical fire.

"It's _so_ soft," she sighed with a childlike delight.

"It's made from Kirin's mane, woven by the High Fae," he proudly related.

She seriously considered that claim. "But the Kirin are the rarest creatures on the planet, and the High Fae - the Aes Sidhe - they never perform work for free. They always extract some kind of serious payment for their services, like Goblins." She turned a questioning gaze to his. "How did you get this?"

He shrugged, the confident smirk back in place. "I've got connections, you know, being a Malfoy and all." He stepped around her. "Do you like it?"

Hermione perceived a hesitant uncertainty in Draco's question, even though he'd tried to hide it behind an arrogant boast, and she knew he was actually concerned about whether she liked his gift or not. She held the ribbon up, and the candlelight glow from above gave off the illusion that the ribbon sparkled with real flames. She was thoroughly enchanted. "I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she breathed in awe.

Unexpectedly, her companion reached around her and grabbed the ribbon from her hand, and she stifled a gasp as a sinking feeling assailed her heart. Had this all been a ruse after all? Had Malfoy given her the present just as a means to hurt her? She couldn't have been that naïve, could she? She almost called him out, when she felt her hair bundled together at the back of her neck by his hands and heard the wisp of the ribbon as it was tied around her make-shift ponytail. She felt a light yank, and knew he'd made a bow of it for her hair. When he stepped back around and assessed the change, his arctic-grey eyes reflected approval.

"You look better with your hair pulled back from your face, you know," he stated.

Hermione was flabbergasted. Malfoy _had_ been flirting with her for the past few weeks! But why? He'd never indicated that he'd felt anything other than disdain for her for the last six years. No, doubtless this was still a part of some ultimate jest he was playing on her…

Wasn't it?

At some point, her mouth had dropped open, but she'd been unaware of that fact until Draco's fingertips came up and applied pressure to the bottom of her jaw. At his light touch, she closed her mouth so fast that her teeth clanked together. That smarted!

As if that wasn't enough to throw her for a complete loop, he cautiously stretched out one hand and brushed his fingertips against hers, stroking back and forth across her ink-stained tips in a rather provocative manner.

Hermione's breath checked in her throat. Why was he touching her? This wasn't the deal between them. He wasn't supposed to touch her.

When she didn't offer any resistance to his advance, still too shocked to know how to respond, he slowly entwined her whole hand in his own and stepped into her. At the same time, he bent down and pressed soft lips to her left cheek, working his way towards the corner of her mouth with light kisses. "Happy Birthday, Granger," he purred, his warm breath tickling her skin in passing. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her blood roared in her ears.

When he slanted his mouth over hers and actually kissed her for the first time, she thought she would die from the heady mix of astonishment and pleasure clashing as one through her whole body.

At first he was gentle, his contact teasing, his tongue darting out to lick her lips and to coax them to part for him. When she didn't respond to his seduction, he became more insistent. His free hand reached up and cupped her cheek and when she finally opened her mouth to remonstrate, he leveraged them into a deep, melting, open-mouthed kiss. Hermione shivered with unexpected desire as he ravished her mouth, feeling heat flush through her whole system in a wave that began at her neck, where her hair was pulled back, and ended at her toes. Strangely compelled by a yearning she had no will to deny, she timidly opened her mouth and allowed instinct to guide her actions.

It was a beautiful kiss, filled with pent-up passion and startling need. When she cracked her eyelids just a moment to take a peek, she swore she glimpsed a fiery-red aura tickling the fringe of Malfoy's fine, platinum hair.

When he finally pulled back, it was only a momentary respite to lay his forehead on hers and allow them both to catch their breaths. He continued stroking her jaw and rubbing their damp palms together in an intimate manner that mimicked bodies moving in tandem towards sexual release. "I knew it would be like this with you," he whispered.

Unsure of what had just happened between them, Hermione felt exceedingly ill at ease. "Draco?" She wanted to tell him that they should stop, that this was weird, but for some reason, the words wouldn't move past her teeth. Something kept her from pushing him away – something powerful and inexplicable that caused her to crave more of his attentions rather than less.

What was happening between them? Why was he touching her? Why did she _want_ him to?

He shook his head, understanding her unspoken questions. "You wanted to know why I just happened to find you tonight. I'm telling you now - _this_ is why." His lips recaptured hers for a second searing kiss that burned them both with its intensity. Enthralled by his flavor and heat, Hermione threw everything she was into returning the affection and he groaned with appreciation, which only inflamed her to give even more.

_This isn't natural!_ the voice of reason in the back of her mind shouted.

Before the thought could fully register, that roaring sound was back in her ears, and a flush of desire surged through her body, causing her nipples to tighten and ache. This time, when her lids flew open with surprise, she was sure that there was a flickering red aura about Draco, as well as about the hand she brought up to run through his hair.

It _had_ to be magic causing this. They were being enchanted somehow…

Her thoughts were distracted by his mouth traveling across her cheek, caressing her earlobe, and traveling in an assured path down her neck. Nipping and licking upon her throat, he search for and found the sensitive spot just above her pulse point and softly bit down. Hermione gasped with the electrified sting of pleasure as he suckled upon the spot hard enough to leave a love bruise, marking his passage and staking his claim. She should have panicked at the thought that now everyone would see the evidence that she had, in fact, been snogging Draco Malfoy, but strangely all she could feel in that moment was a desire for him to mark her again - anywhere on her body he wanted, in fact.

When his mouth moved to sip from her lips again, they kissed with a spicy passion that left her breathless. His tongue was a thing of mischief and sensual teasing as it sought hers to come out and play with enticing licks upon her bottom lip, but when she opened up to meet him, he impishly pulled away. Over and over, he titillated and flustered her in this way, getting her to admit through action that she did, indeed, want him as much as he wanted her. At one point, she actually whimpered with disappointment in an unspoken plea for him to quit torturing her so.

It was quite accidental a moment after he chuckled at her discomfort when she discovered the way to get even, however: resting her free hand on the sway of Draco's neck, she began playing with the soft hairline at his collar. In reaction, he arched his frame into hers and moaned a desperate appeal for more. By scraping her fingernails against that same spot, she even had him growling his petition for her to stroke faster and with greater pressure. Apparently, she'd found one of his erogenous zones. _This is right_, she determined in the moment he smiled against her lips, realizing she'd played him back.

"Witch!" he whispered in cheerful accusation.

"Kiss me," she challenged in an equally husky tone. "Hold me."

Their matched surrender to this bizarre craving they shared shot the moment out of control. Draco abruptly freed his hands, and began to wildly roam across her body, all the while continuing to seduce her with his lips and tongue. He cupped her breasts through her clothing, only to glide his hands down her waist and around to experience the sway of her spine a moment later. Driven to touch her everywhere, he slid her skirt up and clutched her bum over her cotton knickers, kneading her flesh with his hot hands. When he pushed his hard erection against her for the first time, she realized that only thin strips of cloth stood between their nakedness. The awareness of just how close they were to perfection made her knees weak, and she leaned into his embrace, hoping he'd be able to hold her up. He moaned her name into her mouth, and she echoed him with his own.

Wrapping both arms around her tiny waist, Draco picked her up and while continuing to kiss her, he carried her two rows over to the teacher's oak desk at the front of the classroom, and plunked her down on top of it. Seated at the same level as his abdomen, her face was close to being even with his.

"Hi," she shyly whispered, meeting his dove-grey gaze.

His lips twitched. "Hi," he returned and boldly nudged her thighs apart with his hands, settling himself in between her dangling legs. Without another word, he gripped the hem of her uniform's jumper and pulled it up and over her body, dropping it to the ground. His robe and vest followed. Their ties were next to go, and he made a fun production of removing hers, slowly sliding the fabric off her neck while pressing kisses across her jaw. As he reached for her shirt, though, the realization had finally struck her that she was letting a boy – _Draco Malfoy_, no less - undress her and she cringed.

What in Godric's good name was she _doing?_

Sensing her panic, her partner quickly caught her lips in another series of sweet, melting kisses meant to soothe. That fiery aura returned to encompass them both, and her arousal was reawakened in a matter of heartbeats, her protests completely forgotten. Flinging her arms about his shoulders, she snogged him back without thought, going with the flow.

When she was fully relaxed, he pulled back a fraction of an inch, locking eyes with her and pulled on the fabric of his shirt, un-tucking it from his trousers. Once free, he unbuttoned it, starting at the collar and working his way down. He didn't try to kiss her as he disrobed, which Hermione would have preferred, for his intense gaze made things in her womb clench with need at the same time as sending her nerves into a tizzy. The corner of her lip uncontrollably twitched in her nervousness, and she bit it to keep from being embarrassed. Whether he caught the tick or not she couldn't say, as Draco's eyes never left hers.

Opened to the hem, he pushed the cloth of his shirt aside for her to see his bared torso, and Hermione stopped breathing for several long seconds. He was all sleek, lean muscle from four years worth of intense Quidditch practice and the constant activity of climbing up and down stairs in this place; his shoulders and smooth pecs were solid, his abs toned, his biceps defined. There wasn't any hair on him except a small bit of dark gold fluff under each armpit.

Unconsciously, Hermione reached out to touch him, but pulled back at the last moment, not sure if she was doing the right thing. He grabbed her wrist and placed her hand on his chest. "Yes," he moaned, his eyes and voice begging. "Touch me."

Tracing his body ever so gently, using only the pads of her fingers to lightly caress his skin, caused him to shudder and fall forward. He caught himself by leaning his palms flat down on the desk to either side of her, and rested his forehead against hers. As her nails followed his lines and curves, Draco's body jerked and tightened, and she felt secretly powerful inside knowing that she could make him react in such a way. She tried to get him to completely slip the shirt off, but he shook off her hands and distracted her by ravishing her lips once more. Lost in his kiss, captured by his grip as he plunged his hands into her curls and held on, Hermione let go of her fears and allowed the persuasive power that held her in its sway to direct her, unaccountably trusting its influence. Nothing that felt this good could _truly_ be bad, could it?

Malfoy's fingers found and removed the buttons of her shirt, and before she could protest, he'd slipped the cotton from her shoulders. Her bra went next, unhitched and pushed away to the floor to lie amongst the growing pile of their clothing. When the cool air tickled her nipples, only then did she realize just how exposed she truly was. Embarrassed, she covered her naked breasts with her hands.

"No, let me see you," he pleaded and gently removed her hands to bare her upper body to his gaze.

As she had done with him earlier, he took a minute to look at her nude torso. All the while, Hermione felt the heat rise in her cheeks until she knew she must be tinted scarlet. With a feather touch, he trailed the fingers of one hand over her left breast, caressing the areola and nipple until it grew achingly taut and she felt feverish with the growing excitement he encouraged. Gasping and moaning, jerking her head back, she squeezed her eyes shut as the pleasure such small touches brought her nearly made her weep. He repeated the process with her right breast, causing a moist, pulsating reaction between her legs that left her squirming in an attempt to satiate the aching throb.

Hazy thoughts crossed Hermione's mind - doubts that made her question who she was, what she was doing, why she was doing it – but before any of those questions found answers, Malfoy's kiss consumed her again. His mouth trailed a wet, hot path down the side of her throat, over her collar, and further south. With a gentle, but insistent hand, her seducer pressed her to lie back, and as she obeyed, he flowed over with her, his tongue stroking over her left nipple. She cried out with bliss, digging her nails into his biceps as her shoulders touched down on hard wood.

With expert skill, he licked and suckled on the small, rosy bud, blowing cool air on it, then breathing hot against it. The temperature changes and the pressure he applied – sometimes a gentle tug, sometimes a harder bite – drove Hermione mad with want. Inexperienced as she was, her body instinctively knew what it desired and acted according to that drive. Her hips undulated, rubbing her covered core against his rock-hard erection, causing them both to groan at the amazing sensation. Draco continued his mouth's attentions to her breasts, now giving equal treatment to the right side, while simultaneously grinding his body against hers with reckless abandonment.

Overwhelmed and tortured to the point of near insanity by the strange, rapturous feelings that their gliding bodies created, very soon Hermione reached climax. Cradling her knees along his hips, she thrust hard against the heated bulge centered over her mound, arched and wailed her release. Draco's lower body went instantly still, even as his lips continued to suck upon her breast and her nails dug into his skin, causing him to grunt from the sharp pain she knew she was inflicting. In that moment, however, there was no consideration above or beyond the explosion of feeling and light through her center.

When the ecstasy eased into a euphoric buzzing, and her muscles grew heavy, Draco pulled her up into a sitting position. Again, he leaned his palms flat on the table on either side of her and rested his head on her shoulder. In the shuddering of his body, she could sense that he was trying to find his control.

"Hermione…"

The hoarse whisper conveyed his pain and a request for relief. When she didn't respond, her mind still fuzzed from the endorphin rush she'd just experienced, he grasped her hand and very carefully placed it over his thick arousal.

Sex. That's what he was silently begging her for. He wanted them to make love right here, right now. Her first time… on a teacher's desk in a locked room in the dungeon.

Panic shot straight as an arrow through her chest, churning ice through her veins, and slight tremors shook her body as she pulled her hand back and scooted away from him to put space between them. Malfoy wouldn't allow her to retreat, however. He leaned forward and pulled her back where she had been, and once he was comfortably nestled between her legs again, applied pressure to her chin to force her to look him in the eyes. What she saw reflected there was feverish, carnal, and frighteningly possessive. There was nothing childish about the way Draco looked at her and in how he touched her. He may have been only sixteen-years old, but his gaze burned with the intimate knowledge of the ways between women and men. Hermione knew then that this wizard before her wasn't just advanced in magical skills, but that he was ahead of most of the rest of his class both physically and emotionally, too.

What had started out as a dubious, ambiguous flirtation over the past few weeks had suddenly become a very serious reality with consequences.

Hermione became utterly distressed. Had it only been a few hours ago that she'd considered him her enemy? Wasn't he still? For too many years this same boy had enjoyed hurting her, had delighted in causing her and her friends pain. She'd cried a lot of tears because of Slytherin's reigning monarch in her short lifetime. Could one, short evening of passion be enough to undo all of that? Was it enough to take things _all the way between them_? No, it couldn't… shouldn't.

Truthfully, if she didn't put the brakes on now, she knew she'd eventually give him what they both physically wanted, and she knew deep, down inside - in the rational part of her mind that wasn't fogged by lusty, teen hormones and chemical compatibility, and maybe even some freaky, unknown magic - that making love with Draco now (_ever?_) would be a mistake. She placed a hand on his cheek, and tried to convey her wishes with her eyes and voice. "We should stop," she whispered. "I've given you a lot of my firsts tonight. I'm not ready to give up my virginity."

Her worst rival-slash-newest (_greatest?_) object of lust watched her in silence for a long while, clearly weighing her words for their sincerity. Ultimately accepting her decision, he closed his lust-filled, dark grey eyes and let out a deep, shuddering sigh. Leaning his forehead against hers again, he nodded. "Okay," he conceded. "We'll take it slow from now on."

Hope flared in Hermione's uneasy heart. What was happening between them wasn't just a one-off for them, then? Relief unknotted the anxiety in her chest. At least this incident wasn't going to blow-up in her face. For a moment, she'd worried that the 'old Draco' had really been lurking under the surface, and that at any moment, he'd laugh at her lack of sophistication and her naïveté for letting him touch her at all. The last thing she needed or wanted was to wake up tomorrow with her reputation in shreds, feeling like a fool for trusting him in any manner.

Before he pulled away, he thoroughly kissed her, making his interests clear. Her toes actually curled. Yes, he obviously liked her.

Very quickly, the hunger began to build out of control once more, but trying to observe her wishes, Malfoy pulled away, stepped back, bent and retrieved their clothes, handing them off to her. They re-dressed in silence. Ironically, that became the most awkward moment of Hermione's life, as she felt caught between what she rashly _wanted_ to do and what she smartly _ought_ to do.

When she was properly attired and everything had been smoothed down and tucked in, she turned back to Draco. He had re-buttoned his shirt, but kept his jumper and robe off for the time being. There was a slight flush to his face, indicating he was feeling a little overheated. She could intimately relate.

Her eyes roamed over his form much as his had done weeks ago during that hallway confrontation, and she came to startling awareness: he really was quite handsome, wasn't he? And tall, standing at least six feet or an inch above. And his clothing had been well-tailored to accentuate his shape, too. The curve of his bum in those particular trousers did things to her libido that should be outlawed. Her eyes strayed to his hands, her favorite part on a man. Those beautiful, pale hands had worshipped her all evening, hadn't they? It seemed unbelievable now that…

Wait, what was _that?_

Her eyes followed the path of his wrist upwards towards his elbow, and there - a rather sizable, black blur could be seen just on the inside of his lower left forearm through the cotton fibers of his unlined shirt.

Was that a tattoo?

A nagging suspicion grew in her mind, buzzing along her memories.

He hadn't let her remove his shirt past that point tonight. In fact, he'd been careful to keep the inside of his left arm away from her direct line of sight, too. Was this dark spot the reason? What could be so important about it that he didn't want her seeing it?

A sudden anxiety ran through her as she recalled what Harry had mentioned about Igor Karkaroff's Dark Mark back in their fourth year. Specifically, he'd seen the man present his Mark to Snape while the two had carried out a heated argument. _A skull in black ink with a snake writhing through the opened mouth and hanging down to strike_, her best friend had described it. It had been permanently etched on Karkaroff's left forearm.

Without thinking about the ramifications, she rushed to Draco's side, grabbed his arm and violently pulled at his sleeve, popping the button on the cuff. At first he tried to yank his arm back, but by the time the bottom of the tattoo was revealed, it was clear what she was looking at and he'd stopped fighting. When the Dark Mark's ugly shape filled her vision, Hermione's heart dropped into her shoes and she let out a sob.

"_No__!_"

She hastily backed away from her almost-lover in abject horror, unable to quit gaping at the sinister art that decorated his body. She covered her trembling mouth with her hands, biting back the scream that threatened to escape and sought out his beautiful grey eyes, wordlessly begging him to tell her that it wasn't true.

Draco was plainly stricken by her reaction, his naturally pale features gone whiter than normal. He took a step towards her, reaching out. "Let me explain," he beseeched, but she shrunk back from his touch.

"Explain what? You're _his_ now." A sound that was part laughter, part wail erupted from her throat. "Harry was right all along - I could never trust you! _Oh, Merlin_, on the train, I even defended you against him! I said it wasn't possible…" She did scream then - loudly, her temporary grieving giving way to anger. "What have I done? I betrayed _everyone_ - Ron, Harry, my friends, my parents, and everything this school stands for!" She began sobbing in earnest now, near-to hyperventilating. "I betrayed myself by… _Oh, God_, I gave _so much_ of myself to you… I-I… Merlin help me, I fell for an evil Death Eater's tricks!"

Her sanity hung by a thread, just an inch away from a permanent snap. The desire to escape from this room, from _him_ was overpowering, her misery at the truth devastating. She turned and bolted to the door she'd originally come through, pounding on it, seeking escape. She screamed until her throat gave out, hoping someone would find her. Fresh tears of regret and sorrow poured down her cheeks, stinging her eyes. "You idiot!" she screamed, unsure if she was referring to Malfoy or herself in those seconds. "_Idiot!_"

In a blink, the door was opened from the other side, and she was in Harry's arms. Then she was being carried up to Madam Pomfrey's hospital ward by Ron. She was laid out on one of the lumpy, scratchy beds, and a cold compress was placed on her forehead. She heard a woman murmur soothing words, felt the tingle of magic cast upon her, and then there was only darkness and the echo of regret following her down into unconsciousness.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER FOUR:**

**Aes Sidhe (also called the High Fae) = **High court and ruling class of all fairies in Celtic mythology. Strongest in magic, particularly seduction/love charms.

**Kirin = **Japanese mythological creature. One of the four cardinal pillars of Heaven in Shintao magic (the turtle, the phoenix, and the celestial dragon are the other three; in Japanese myth, it is the top creature in the magical hierarchy; in Chinese, it is replaced by the white tiger). It looks like a cross between a deer and a horse, but has dragon scales instead of a coat of fur, has a mane and tail made of fire, and a single pearl horn (like a western unicorn) graces its forehead. The appearance of the Kirin, in eastern myth, is accompanied by a learned person (a sage - someone very book knowledgable), and it portends a great change in destiny for all parties who see or know of the Kirin directly.

**Musical Selection for this Chapter: **

**_"Nobody Lives Without Love" by Eddi Reader_ (Hermione's thoughts about herself and Draco)**


	5. Ch 5: Firsts

**Chapter Five: Firsts**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Friday, September 20, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing the next afternoon. The sunlight streaming through the window across from her bed hurt her eyes. She had a headache and she was alone, as there were no other patients in the wing and no visitors to come check-up on her. She closed her eyes again, seeking the calm, but as soon as she did, memories of last night returned full-force.

"_Let me explain."_

"_Explain what? You're his now!"_

_"Oh, God, I gave so much of myself to you… Merlin help me, I fell for an evil Death Eater's tricks!_

Not just that - falling for the Death Eater, himself. In the span of a few hours, somehow, someway, she'd begun to feel forbidden things for Malfoy. She practically _burned_ inside and out when she thought of Draco now. It was a compelling desire, uncontrollable, and terrifying.

What was happening to her? This didn't feel normal.

It must have something to do with that red aura she'd seen. Had he cast some sort of dark, non-verbal spell upon her to induce a state of lustful need? She'd never heard of such a thing as an incantation, though, only a potion - but she hadn't ingested anything last night.

Godric, what if he'd cast the Imperius Curse upon her?

No, that couldn't be, for she'd been able to control her own movements and she hadn't felt that queer pressure behind her eyes that the books described when one used mind-magic upon your person.

So what was it that could have caused her to completely abandon her sanity and morals to engage in a rather heated fling with her greatest enemy? Why on the Founders' stones would she have snogged - and petted, and been brought to climax by and nearly had sex with - the likes of Draco Malfoy?

Her limbs began violently trembling as her thoughts shifted to red hair and smiling blue-green eyes. _Oh, gods, Ron!_ She'd cheated on him, hadn't she? They weren't officially together, but she loved him. And, now she was a dirty, slag cheat who'd practically thrown herself at the enemy! She abruptly sat up, reaching for the bed pan on the small table next to her, and promptly vomited into it.

Her retching alerted Madam Pomfrey and the woman came bustling into the room, a small medical bag and her wand at the ready. When she saw that her patient had finally finished throwing up, she poured her a glass of water from the nightstand and handed it to her. "There you go, dear. Just swish and spit. It'll help to get rid of the acid."

Hermione followed instructions, and then lay back in bed. "Sorry, I woke with a headache," she weakly explained.

Madam Pomfrey reached into her bag and pulled out a cherry red-colored tonic and a silver spoon. She leveled-off a spoonful of the liquid medicine and shoveled it into Hermione's mouth without further ado. "This'll help."

The stuff tasted like syrup and smelled like old shoes. Hermione made a face and quickly swallowed. Within a minute, her headache was completely gone. "Thanks," she croaked.

The matronly medi-witch lifted Hermione's wrist to take her pulse, and after waved her wand over her patient in a peculiar flick-and-swish motion. Hermione felt nothing, but the old school nurse nodded in satisfaction. "You seem fine now. You were suffering from a bit of exhaustion, lack of food, and exposure to the damp cold of the dungeon. You'll be able to go back to your House now."

Hermione sighed in relief, and sat up to make haste back to her dorm, noticing only then that she was still dressed in yesterday's clothes. Was _his_ scent still on them - that enticing bergamot and amber cologne that had drawn her in and made her knees weak? She reached into her skirt pocket and found Draco's handkerchief safely tucked away where she'd stored it, and traced his embroidered initials on the hem. Gingerly, she fingered the bottom button of her dress shirt, and the memory of him undressing her powerfully surged through her mind, setting her blood aflame once more.

_No,_ she refused to think anymore on what they'd done! It had been a mistake - one that wouldn't be spoken of or repeated.

Except, there had been at least one thing worth remembering...

Reaching back to remove the ribbon from her hair, she was surprised to discover it missing. An unexplainable panic tightened her chest. "Madam Pomfrey, did you take my hair ribbon out?" she asked, indescribably upset at its loss.

The older woman shook her head. "I didn't see a ribbon on you when they brought you in, dear. I'm sorry."

Had she dropped it? Perhaps Malfoy had taken it back after she'd passed out? Tears flooded her eyes. "If you find a red ribbon anywhere, can you please have it returned to me?" she requested of the nurse, her heart pulsing in her throat. "It's very special to me."

Madam Pomfrey's usual brusque manner softened. "Certainly, child. I'll keep an eye out for it." She then cleared her throat, businesslike. "Now, I'll give you a note dismissing you from classes for the day. In the meantime, I want you to stop by the Great Hall and eat before you go back to your dormitory," she insisted. Pointing her wand at Hermione, she stared her down. "And you're _not_ to skip any more meals, young lady. I mean it! I'll know if you do."

Hermione gave a sad smile and a nod in agreement. "I promise."

That seemed to satisfy the old nurse, who briskly collected her things and returned to her office without another word. Hermione stood a moment longer to collect her courage, and then she walked out of the Hospital Ward, heading to the Great Hall.

Lunch was long over by the time she'd stepped foot into the dining area. There were still a few students hanging about, but for the most part, Hermione would be alone at Gryffindor's table. Thankfully, _he_ was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione sat down and instantly a place setting, a plate full of steaming food, and a goblet of pumpkin juice appeared in front of her. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey had sent word ahead to the kitchens. Placing her napkin across her lap, she attempted to eat, even though her appetite was rather diminished. When she'd finished as much as she was able, she whispered thanks to her house-elf friends downstairs, as usual, then made her way back to the Gryffindor common room.

She muttered a half-hearted 'hello' to those she passed in the corridors who looked her in the eye, but did her best to simply hurry past her fellow students, wandering ghosts, watchful portraits and curious teachers alike in the hopes of just getting back to her dorm room to her own bed, desperate for a lie-in. After reciting her password to The Fat Lady, she squeezed through the open door into her House common area. To her serious vexation, Harry and Ron were at her side a heartbeat later, as were Ginny, Luna and Neville. Finding it difficult to look Ron in the eye, too embarrassed by last night's activities with another man, Hermione kept her profile to him at all times. "How did you all get out of classes?" she asked, then instantly answered her own question. "Ah, it's Friday afternoon. Free Commons Period."

"Yep!" Harry enthusiastically grinned. "Why do homework just before the weekend when you don't have to?"

She chuckled, hugged Harry for his ability to make even her sourest moods slightly better, and reiterated to all of them that she was feeling much better, yes. And suddenly, she _was_ feeling more her old self. Just being around her concerned friends boosted her morale. Of course, she apologized for missing her party last night, and when asked how she knew, she teased that she'd literally charmed it out of Ron last week with a spell.

"Well, it's still not too late to celebrate," Harry proclaimed, rushing across the room to collect a really big box off the corner table. It was gift wrapped and had a big blue bow on the top. "It's from all of us. We pooled our resources."

Hermione smiled with genuine wonder and gratitude, and then eagerly opened her present. She felt she could use a happy surprise right about then.

Inside, under the filler paper, laid a beautiful new satchel for her school books. It was a dark gold color, and made of a soft, supple leather of a kind she'd never felt before. The tag proclaimed it to be of the famous Hoole & Lishmund line of fashionable dragon hide goods. Hermione gasped. "It's _so_ beautiful, but this must have cost you a fortune!"

"It's not every day a person turns seventeen and becomes an official adult," Harry sheepishly replied. "Besides, you're worth it."

"Don't look at me," Ron put his hands up in his own defense. "I said we should make you a card-carrying member of the Library in Alexandria, but Ginny insisted on something more girly and personal."

"Right!" Ginny agreed. "Every woman should face the world for the first time in style."

"And don't forget that dragon hide is good for keeping Toot-Toots away," Luna dreamily commented.

Everyone laughed at Luna's joke, except Luna, who was apparently serious.

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative quietly after that, with the Quidditch team heading out to the field to practice, Luna and Neville heading off to the library to finish up the week's homework assignments, and most of the other girls in her dormitory off somewhere else on campus. Hermione was alone in her room, with nothing to do, but feeling more relaxed now, having decided earlier that she was going to pretend last night had never happened. These uncharacteristic feelings she was having for Draco _fecking_ Malfoy - she'd completely forget them, chalking the entire incident up to wonky teenage hormones. She considered studying, but decided to take Madam Pomfrey's advice to heart and give herself the rest of the weekend off; she'd earned it. And besides, it was her birthday week, so this was her present to herself.

Taking a change of fresh clothes, she headed off to the fifth floor to the shared Prefects' bathroom, determined to enjoy a luxurious soak. Once there, she flipped the sign on the door to let the others know that someone was in the room, turned on the multi-colored bubble sprayer, stripped out of her clothes, and headed for the small shower stall to the right of the entrance to get cleaned up. She scrubbed her skin with her favorite cardamom-cinnamon soap, and then washed her hair with rosemary-mint shampoo and conditioner. After rinsing off, she slipped into the pre-warmed water of the giant pool-sized bathtub.

Lying back against the pool's lip to relax, however, allowed her over-active mind to wander. Behind her closed eyelids, flashbacks of the night before materialized, freshly wounding her. The memory of Draco's eyes, his hands, and his mouth on her, and of his soft voice in her ear tormented her...

"_You look better with your hair pulled back from your face, you know." _

"_I knew it would be like this with you."_

"_Let me see you." _

"_Hermione…"_

Bloody buggering hell! He _must_ have charmed her somehow; there was simply no way she could naturally feel this way about Malfoy. It had to be a dark spell - it just _had_ to be.

She fought back against the erotic memories as they continued to chase her thoughts, forcibly reminding herself that the lying, contemptuous bastard had spent years mistreating her, heckling her looks, spreading lies about her, calling her terrible names, and assuring that she and her friends were as miserable as could be. The revelation of the Dark Mark on his arm had only re-confirmed his true identity and intentions: he was a poisonous viper lingering in tall grass, waiting for his moment to strike, never to be trusted...

And yet he'd seemed so different last night from how she'd ever known him to be. He'd actually looked at her with tender, sincere feeling. His lips had courted hers with a fiery desire that could not have been feigned. He'd whispered such sweet things in a tone husky with what sounded to be honest emotion...

So, which one was the real Draco Malfoy?

It felt like she was being torn apart all over again by her doubts. The dreaded question, 'which one to believe?' kept banging around in her head, refusing to be silenced. "STOP IT!" she scolded her tormented heart aloud. "You can't want Malfoy! It's wrong to want him! He's evil!" The agony she felt deep inside her chest at just thinking such things was almost unbearable. Full wrenching sobs tore out of her. Turning her face into the tub wall, Hermione leaned against it for support as she cried her eyes out.

This hurt too much. These feelings _couldn't_ be real. No one could fall in love just from kissing and touching for a few hours - especially someone they'd hated for years... could they? What on earth was she going to do to make this lunatic anxiety stop? The guilt ate at her from one end, and the compelling _need_ to be with Draco again fervently railed and warred against it. Her soul felt split in two.

After more than half an hour, utterly drained and limp, she quieted. Her headache had returned, however, and she rested her head on the cool tile and let herself drift, praying it would just go away and leave her some small peace.

Harry had always been right, hadn't he? He'd warned her about Draco on the Hogwarts Express while on the way to school this year. She hadn't listened; she'd denied him, in fact. How could she have been so arrogant as to do that, when he'd proven himself right time after time? He'd been correct about the Dark Lord wanting to possess the Philosopher's Stone, and about the Heir of Slytherin seeking entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He'd warned everyone that Lord Voldemort had finally returned in the flesh the night Cedric Diggory had died. He'd even told her about the damned Thestrals. And in every single case, she hadn't believed him until it was almost too late. _Every. Single. Time._ How could she have even considered doubting him about Draco's Death Eater status with a track record like that?

There was a knock on the door outside. "Are you going to be much longer?" Padma Patil asked through the beveled glass. "I'd like to take a shower."

Hermione sighed. She knew she couldn't lay around in the bath all day. "Sorry, Padma! I'll be out in five minutes."

"Okay," Padma replied.

Hermione dragged herself out of the bath and quickly dried off, her fingers and toes pruned by the water. She dressed in a matching black panty and bra set, her favorite pair of dark blue jeans, a burgundy cashmere sweater that her mother had bought her for Christmas last December, a pair of fluffy black socks, and a comfortable pair of black trainers. Muggle clothes they may be, but she preferred them to wearing her school uniform as the weather dipped with the changing seasons. Collecting her dirties, she headed out the door. "Sorry for taking so long! It's all yours," she indicated to Padma, who waited patiently on the other side, and hurried away back down to her dorm.

It was now five o'clock, but the Quidditch team and the library duo hadn't yet returned. The Gryffindor common room was blessedly quiet as well. Hermione tossed her clothes to be laundered by the house elves into the chute, but held back on adding the handkerchief at the last moment. She folded it and tucked it into her pocket instead. Then she dried and styled her hair. She'd found a new Muggle hair care product over the summer that had tamed her wild curls, and kept the frizz down and generously put some in her hair, braiding it back into a neat plait. Impulsively, she grabbed her coat and headed out for a jaunt around the grounds. Perhaps she'd head down to the Quidditch field to watch the practice.

Once outside, she kept bumping into couples walking the grounds, or secluded away in dark corners. Seeing these people only heaped misery on top of her already cheerless heart, and so she decided to retreat to her favorite spot near the Black Lake for a quiet return to nature instead. When she reached her favorite driftwood log on the shore, she plunked down and stared out at the choppy, wind-swept waters. The clouds above were gray. It was going to rain again soon. The lake's protector, the Giant Squid, didn't care for the rain, and so wouldn't be putting in an appearance today, most likely. It was just as well, as she hadn't brought him any treats.

She looked back up at the sky. Gray clouds. Gray eyes. She blinked away the sudden rush of tears as best as she could, but some escaped, trailing down her cheeks.

"Salazar's rod, Granger, you cry more than anyone I know."

Her heart stopped. He was here. He'd followed her, again.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER FIVE:**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

**_"Hurry Up and Save Me" by Selena Gomez & The Scene_ (Hermione's thoughts about herself and Draco)**


	6. Ch 6: Enough

**Chapter Six: Enough**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Friday, September 20, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

Draco's foot appeared on the log next to Hermione's hand, but the rest of him stayed to the right and behind, just out of her peripheral vision. She did not greet him, remaining silent, a part of her hoping he'd just go away, not yet ready for this inevitable confrontation.

"You know, you really should be more careful what you say. The whole bloody castle could hear you pathetically crying your little girly heart out up in the Prefects' bathroom," he angrily chastised.

Hermione shut her eyes, mortified. He'd heard her self-recriminations about him. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I wasn't aware that I was being loud."

Behind her, Draco scoffed. "It's tile, dummy. It echoes unless you cast a Silencing Charm."

A tongue of anger sparked in her chest. "I _am _quite aware of the acoustical properties of sound in an enclosed space, but it's not as if a person should expect others to rudely eavesdrop on a private moment, either. There is such a thing as manners, you know," she growled, resentment and ire beginning to override her sorrow. "Inexperienced I may be, Draco, but I'm no simpleminded half-wit."

He was quiet for a moment, but then he hopped over the log to face her down. "Really? I don't agree." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw her the most smugly amused look in his arsenal. "I think you're probably the most naïve and gullible girl I've ever tried to bed."

She snorted at his cockiness. "You say that as if you're a regular Cyrano."

He raised an eyebrow at her, recognizing the reference. Cyrano de Bergerac was, after all, a very famous Charms practitioner. He nonchalantly shrugged. "I've had my share of women."

Hermione was suddenly very bothered by this conversation. When had Draco started having sex any way, and how many girls had he made love to so far? She definitely knew that he was experienced by the confident way he'd handled her last night, but was it a big number already? He was only sixteen! She frowned. "Well, you didn't succeed with me, so it doesn't matter."

His eyes changed in a blink, as if he'd been waiting for such an opening, and she recognized in those windows to his soul that he was mulling over dark thoughts full of promises, just for her. "But I could have."

Feeling the heated blush creeping up her cheeks once more, she turned her head away, refusing to be suckered into another compromising position with him. "That's not going to happen now," she asserted with as much strength as she could muster. "And you know why."

They were both silent for the span of minutes. In all that time, she could feel his eyes on her, measuring, considering again. She refused to meet his gaze.

"Maybe I don't need you just for sex."

She felt her heart skip a beat. What was he saying? He couldn't possibly want her for anything else, could he? He was a typical sixteen-year old male, for S.P.E.W.'s sake! What else was there but sex at that age? Even Ron and Harry were obsessed with the idea of snogging and bra sizes right now.

Except her friends were nothing like Draco Malfoy. It wasn't even a fair comparison, as they lived in two completely different worlds, separated by huge economic disparity. The Malfoy family's great wealth had given Draco access to people, places and things that she, Ron and Harry could never dream of. He'd been on a grand American touring holiday during the winter break of their first year at Hogwarts, and by their second Christmas, he'd been hunting lions in Africa with dear ol' daddy. And just this last New Year's, he'd been whirling around Paris enjoying the high society parties with members of the Ministry. She knew all of this because his family had considerable press in _The Daily Prophet_. But was that kind of life experience enough to know the difference between wanting someone and loving someone? Or was she completely misconstruing him? She needed him to clarify things for her. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean, Malfoy."

He snarled, stalked across the space between them, grabbed her arms and pulled up against him before she could properly react. "You do, too, so don't play with me, Hermione. And my name is Draco." His mouth descended on hers hard. It was a kiss meant to punish, not to elicit desire. She struggled against him in earnest, and when he finally pulled his mouth away, she slapped him across the cheek as hard as she could. In response, he threw her back away from him, and she crumpled to the rocky ground.

"Fine! Do you really want to know what I was doing down there last night, Granger?" he demanded with an angry hiss. "I was fucking Pansy in an empty closet down the hall. I'd just finished giving it to her good when I came by your door and heard you screaming."

Hermione's heart convulsed in her chest, and she pressed her hand over the site to quell the unexpected, sharp pain. She stared up at him, hurt by his words... then she remembered a minor detail that made his story obviously untrue. "You're lying," she challenged.

He sneered at her, crouching down to her level and menacingly stuck his face in hers. "You don't know anything about me, Granger. Don't even think you do." With that, he stood and turned to leave, his knees cracking in the chill as he regained his full height.

"But you had my birthday gift inside your robes," she impetuously called back. That stopped him in his tracks. She pressed her advantage. "You wouldn't have been carrying something that valuable around if you'd planned just a casual _tête-à-tête_ with Parkinson."

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, his feelings hidden behind a cold mask of disinterestedness. "You mean this ribbon?" he asked, pulling the red strip from his pocket. She gasped in amazement. He _had_ collected it from the room that night! "Oh, it worked like a charm on Millicent and Daphne the first time, too."

Crushed by such an insinuation, Hermione bit back the painful gasp that threatened to leave her throat and give her deepest feelings away. "Why do you always lie?" she asked instead, clinging to anger and climbing to her feet. "Last night, you seemed so different, someone I could... But today, you're back to being foul. So, who are you really? Which Draco Malfoy is the _real_ you?" She wiped at her damp eyes, suddenly feeling ten years older, utterly defeated by the last day and specifically by him. She'd had enough of his games. "You know what? Forget it. I don't even care."

Heading back towards the castle, taking the long path and following the shoreline, she walked, hoping to rid herself of all unwanted thoughts and feelings. When it started raining, she hardly noticed.

**X~~~~~X**

By the time she'd gotten back to her dorm room, Hermione was soaked through, shivering, and had a sore throat. She had also decided to take drastic measures to settle the matter of Draco Malfoy once and for all. These feelings she had for him were toxic and not natural. Since she couldn't determine what spell he'd used upon her to directly undo it, she'd decided to tackle the problem from a different angle: she'd use a memory modification spell to entirely forget the last two days instead. That would effectively nullify the effects of his lust-love spell upon her psyche and things would go back to the way they had been.

She had it all worked out. Her collapse and subsequent stay – and future one, if things went well tonight - in the school's Hospital Wing was the perfect excuse for an onset of temporary amnesia. No one except Malfoy knew the truth of what had happened between them in the dungeon, and she knew he would never so openly speak of it, for he had a dark secret more important to keep. Her reputation and sanity would be intact, and this would solve his problem too, as she would have absolutely no memory of her having seen the Dark Mark on him. Things could go back to the old, familiar routine between them.

She felt very sad at that thought. But this was for the best, really. It was safer for them both that she forget everything.

When it was time for lights out, she waited an appropriate amount of time for her roommates to fall asleep before quietly pulling on her clothes - making sure she had Draco's hanky in her pocket - and silently slipped out to the library. Once there, she made her way to the Restricted Section, and pulled down a book she'd previously "borrowed" to check out some of her facts. She made sure she completely memorized the spell she was going to use, and then she snuck back out and tiptoed her way back to the Gryffindor common room.

Removing her shoes, she sat down in front of the dying fire to calm her racing heart and to help steady her nerves.

Because she couldn't use the regular Obliviation spell, as it was impossible to turn such a thing on oneself (it was an offensive magic, not defensive), she'd had to fall back on a different, somewhat questionable source for a spell that could work in her favor. It wasn't the most preferred way of getting rid of her problem, but it seemed the only alternative aside from going to Dumbledore and revealing everything, causing a scandal and alerting the world to her illicit liaison with Slytherin's bad boy. Something inside of her shuddered at the thought of revealing his Dark Mark to others, and _strongly_ resisted the 'tattling path,' though she could not logically explain why.

Mind magic spells weren't often discussed in printed form as the Ministry had always had a policy of frowning upon their use on principle, except in necessary cases (like covering a wizard's tracks from Muggles). The man who'd created the specific spell she'd intended to evoke tonight hadn't been the world's most competent wizard, but he also hadn't been a _complete_ moron; he'd actually gotten many of his overly-exaggerated details right in his books, she'd discovered over the years from her research. His was a tricky incantation, but she was sure it was well within her abilities to perform, and felt relatively confidant that it _would_ work, having considered the spell backwards and forwards during her long walk back to the school. She said a silent prayer Heaven's way that this experiment didn't end with her permanently committed to St. Mungo's, though, just in case.

Pulling out the handkerchief Draco had handed her down in the dungeon, she stared long and hard at it, gathering her courage. This single item was vital for the six required elements – sight, touch, scent, sound, taste, and memory - that needed to be secured for the spell to work. Thank goodness she'd resisted sending it down the laundry chute earlier.

Tracing the handkerchief from corner to corner, she ran her fingers for a while over the embroidered "DLM" on the hem, and absently wondered what the letter "L" stood for precisely? Perhaps he was named for his father, Lucius. She'd never know, now.

Next, she pressed the cloth to her nose to make sure she had a good dose of his personal aroma. She deeply inhaled several times and the scent that was so uniquely Draco filled her nose - bergamot and amber. Funny that she'd never noticed how alluring his cologne was until the other night when her face had been pressed into his neck. Her insides quivered at the thought. She hastily pulled the cloth away.

That covered sight, touch and scent.

Closing her eyes, she painfully recalled the last two days, working her way backwards to the point where she'd taken the wrong staircase down into the dungeon. From there, she recalled every word he'd ever spoken to her in that time, every inflection of his voice. Today's conversation was particularly fresh in her mind.

"_I think you're probably the most naïve and gullible girl I've ever tried to bed."_

"_I've had my share of women."_

"_Maybe I don't need you just for sex."_

"_You don't know anything about me, Granger. Don't even think you do."_

She relished the memory of tasting him last night, recalling how soft his tongue had been, and how it had fiercely, desperately plunged into her mouth. He'd tasted like spiced tea.

Sound, taste and memory assailed her. She tucked the handkerchief back into her jeans.

When she was finally filled to the brim with the exquisite pain and pleasure that defined her short relationship with Draco Malfoy, Hermione pointed her wand at her head, made the correct hand flourish, and spoke the words for the Forgetfulness Curse.

"_Oubliez Panton_!"

**X~~~~~X**

Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing. The sun was setting, and its light was streaming through the window across from her bed, hurting her eyes. She had a massive headache and was thankfully alone to suffer through it, as there were no other patients in the ward just then.

What had happened that she'd ended up here? She couldn't recall. Her last memory was of being in the Great Hall, looking for the kitchens. But she couldn't remember why she'd been there, or what she'd been after.

It hurt too much to think just then.

Closing her eyes, seeking the calm, she promptly fell back asleep, hoping her brain would stop throbbing and that the weird pressure in her chest, just over her heart, would abate after a nap.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER SIX:**

For the sake of the plot, because I needed a spell more dramatic than '_Obliviate_,' but which would accomplish a similar effect _and_ have unforseen consequences, I made up the following spell for this fic:

**"Oubliez" = **French for "Forget"

**"Panton" = **Latin for "Everything"

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

**_"Cold As You" by Taylor Swift_ (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	7. Ch 7: Enigma

**Chapter Seven: Enigma**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Monday, September 23, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

The rain had stopped finally, and the sun actually peeked out from between the dark clouds for the first time in a week. From her bed, Hermione had a magnificent view of the way the light played on the trees and water below the castle. She smiled. It was the perfect start for the day, and she felt really good. She sat up, and Madam Pomfrey appeared at her side in a flash.

"You look better," the older woman commented professionally, reaching out to grab a hold of Hermione's head. She started jerking it back and forth, then pulled her eyelids down and forced her mouth open with applied pressure to her jaws, looking deep down her gullet. Assured that her patient's prognosis was good, Madam Pomfrey collected her medical bag and wand and stood to leave. "Tut, Miss Granger, I thought we'd settled all of this days ago. You need to eat, sleep and relax. You're pushing yourself too hard."

Hermione's brows drew down in consternation. "I came here a few days back?"

The elder witch stopped and stared down at her, eyes narrowing. "Yes, don't you remember?"

She shook her head. She had absolutely no memory of recently being in the Hospital Wing. "What day is it?" she asked, confused.

"It's Monday, dear," Madam Pomfrey replied, a hitch of concern in her voice.

Wait, that didn't sound right. Wasn't it Thursday? She tried to recall the last few days, but nothing surfaced. Had she slept the entire end of the week away for some odd reason?

"What day should it be?" Madam Pomfrey pressed her.

"Thursday," she replied.

The nurse's lips drew into a tight line. "I'll be right back, dear. Please wait here and lie back." She briskly headed towards the exit, moving at a good pace, but not so quickly as to alarm her patient.

Hermione felt a little panicked that she couldn't seem to remember the last few days. Had she hit her head? She checked her skull for bumps, but nothing felt tender under her ministrations.

Within a short period of time, the medi-witch was back with Headmaster Dumbledore in tow. He gave her that fatherly smile she so adored and sat down at the chair by her bed. "Hello, Miss Granger. Poppy tells me that you've been a regular visitor here lately."

Hermione sheepishly smiled. "Apparently, sir, although I can't seem to recall my visits at the moment."

"Why don't you tell me about it," he gently urged.

She shrugged. "I can't really say, Professor. I don't remember the last few days, it seems. I woke up this morning, and here I was in the Hospital Wing. I don't think I hit my head." She touched all around her skull, searching for a goose-egg, but no tender spots or lumps. "Do you suppose it could have been an accident with magic?"

He tilted his head, considering her words. "I cannot say for certain. Do you mind if I use some magic on you to find out, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head. "If you believe it will help, of course."

Dumbledore removed his wand from the sleeve of his robes. "I'm sure it will." He put his free hand on the top of her head, closed his eyes, and waved the wand over her. There was no sound, no feeling. She didn't even know he'd cast a spell on her, in fact. It was a perfect incantation. They remained like that, neither speaking, for a good minute before Dumbledore leaned back, letting his hand fall back to his side.

"Oh, I see," he murmured. There was a thoughtful frown on his face, slightly hidden by his long, grayish-white whiskers.

Hermione grew concerned. "What's wrong, sir?" His eyes were far away, and she knew he wasn't really hearing her at the moment. "Professor?"

Dumbledore shook himself from his trance, and gave her a ghost of a smile. "It's nothing, my dear," he reassured. "It would seem that your self-imposed workload has been putting a bit of a strain on you since term began. Memory loss can be an unfortunate side-effect of such enormous stress."

Amnesia from stress? She'd never heard of such a thing. And this year's schedule hadn't been half as difficult as third year's. She was about to tell him that, but he gave her no opportunity to reply.

"Please understand Miss Granger that I must care for the welfare of my students before all else. For that reason, I am going to ask Professor Flitwick to postpone your extracurricular lessons with him until the third term. That way, you can adjust to your new schedule better."

Postpone Controlling Elemental Magic? But that would set her back! It might just be the one thing that would harm her chances of getting into Yvelinnes University!

She was about to strenuously protest when he held up his hands, palms facing towards her, bringing her up short. "Now, now. We'll simply extend your Wizarding Law studies with Professor Binns into the second term to make up for it. Classroom instruction is much less strenuous overall, and I think you could certainly use the rest, Miss Granger." He stood up and smiled down at her. "I'll have Poppy write a note excusing you from class today, and I'll make sure Professors Binns and Flitwick are informed of the changes to your extracurricular schedule." With that, he was gone.

Madam Pomfrey, who'd been listening the whole time nodded in agreement. "You may go, Miss Granger. But make sure you eat. Stop by the Great Hall immediately for breakfast. And I want you to get to sleep tonight at a decent hour. You're under too much stress, young lady." Then she, too, turned and left.

Hermione sighed, absolutely confused by what had just happened. Professor Dumbledore's explanation for her memory loss had seemed rather weak, honestly, but her expertise didn't lie along the path of healing. She'd just have to take his word on it, for now. She sat up, stretched her limbs, tied her shoes back into place, and then made her way down to the Great Hall to eat.

The day passed quickly after that.

She'd spent the remainder of the morning up in her dormitory, lying on her bed and reading ahead in her Wizarding Law textbook, _The British Ministry's Charter of Rights _by Chroniculus Punnet. At lunchtime, she hopped downstairs for a quick bite to eat and to reassure her friends that she was okay, but that her memory was a little fuzzy from Thursday onward. She'd recounted Dumbledore's visit to her bedside and his subsequent explanation for her amnesia. After their discussion, Harry and Ron handled her with extra care, piling her plate with food, refilling her mug, and generally mother-henpecking her to death in their efforts to assure she would be well fed. She couldn't help but smile at their efforts.

As she reached for her pumpkin juice, her sweeping gaze took in the whole of the packed Dining Hall, she noted in a glance the individual faces within congregated groups of friends gossiping together. At Ravenclaw's table, there was Lavender and the Patil twins sitting with Michael Corner, Ernie Macmillan, and Cho Chang. At her own, Seamus, Neville and Luna sat across from Dean and Ginny. The Hufflepuffs congregated around Hannah Abbott. Slytherin's table was split, with the older students sitting near the head of the room and younger years in the middle - all except Theodore Nott, who preferred sitting on the end closest to the door by himself, reading while he ate. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Parkinson were predictably surrounding...

Gah, Malfoy was ogling at her again!

He'd been playing the 'stare game' with her since their corridor run-in a few weeks back. It was this term's ruse to get under her skin; every year the loathsome, little twit pulled some scheme from his sleeve to bug her. He tended to single her out among her friends, and she attributed this to the fact that she was a Muggle-born, a girl, friends with Harry and Ron, _and_ she totally kicked his bum in every class (well, except Advanced Potions, where she and he were usually tied, thanks to Snape's unfair favoritism).

Bah! She was determined to completely ignore the obnoxious ferret's attempts to get her goat this time, lifting her nose in a clear snub as she looked away from the one o'clock bell tolled, she bid her friends goodbye and headed back up to her room.

Dinner went much the same as lunch, except by that time, pretty much the entire school knew of Hermione Granger's Friday night fainting spell (which she had no memory of at all) and her ensuing amnesia. She had never been so mortified in her life as when the swell of well-intentioned, "good health" wishers appeared at her table. Neville offered Hermione his robe, for extra warmth. Luna bequeathed a cloth bag of small, star-shaped origami pieces that she promised would ward off Chuggs (whatever _they_ were). "They eat holes in your liver when you're not looking," she'd claimed. Padma offered to take on Hermione's Prefect duties for the week. Ernie Macmillan teased her by threatening to beat her out for top spot in the class as incentive for her to get back to work soon. Seamus, Dean, Katie, and Parvati swarmed around her, asking questions that made her feel uncomfortable, especially when the answer was always, "I don't know." Finally, it was Ginny who shooed them all away.

"Thanks," she murmured in gratitude.

"No problem," her female best friend replied, tossing her long, red hair back over her shoulder and playfully flexing her bicep in a show of strength. "Kicking a little arse is what we Lionesses do best."

Both girls giggled at the ridiculousness of the boast, which caused Harry and Ron to roll their eyes - which elicited another bout of laughter from the two witches.

At that moment, Hermione happened to glance over Harry's left shoulder, and once more caught Draco Malfoy staring at her from his seat at the Slytherin table. As usual, there was a scowl on his face, and he looked as though he'd eaten something sour that didn't agree. _Right, whatever_, she thought. The snake could stew in his rotten temper for all she cared.

Just as she was about to turn away in dismissal, not wanting him to ruin her good mood, his brows lowered, his eyes narrowed, and his cheeks reddened in what appeared to be a growing fury, as if he'd read her thoughts. The abrupt change in his demeanor set off warning bells in her head and caused her to focus more intently on his countenance.

Malfoy was angry at her - and for some very specific reason. There was, to her shock, a cruel and dark vengeance vowed in the intense glare he gave her.

Taken aback by such vehemence, not understanding its origin, Hermione paused, her defenses automatically going up. Surely ignoring him hadn't bothered him _that_ much, had it? It was, after all, the same childish game they'd been playing with each other for years - he picked on her in some annoying fashion, she ignored him until her temper popped and she did something about it (like used a Muggle insult on him that he didn't understand and would become flustered by, stomped on his foot, hexed a minor bout of harmless, but humorous bad luck upon him that lasted an entire day, slapped him - whatever the merited punishment). So, what had tipped their dislike of one another away from the realm of nuisance name-calling and the occasional spiteful retribution into a heightened, rather alarming level of promised violence?

"Hey, you okay?" Ron asked, waving his hand at her from across the table.

She gave him her full attention. "What?"

Ron looked over his shoulder and catching the reason for Hermione's discomfort, snorted. He turned back to her. "Malfoy bothering you again?" he asked. "That git never stops, does he?"

She looked down at her food, concentrating on slicing up a piece of meat. "Just ignore it, Ron. He's not worth it." She put the meat in her mouth and chewed, then took a sip from her goblet to wash it down.

"Did he hurt you when you were locked in that room with him in the dungeon last Thursday night?" Harry asked, concerned. "You haven't said a word about it, and I've been worried."

Hermione abruptly looked at her dark-haired best friend. She'd been in the dungeon on the night of her birthday, locked in a room with Malfoy? She was appalled at the very thought. "What was that? Was I really locked in a room with _him_?"

Harry and Ron exchanged another one of those looks. They were trying to judge how careful they should be with her, how much she should know. She could plainly read their unspoken intentions across their faces and huffed in annoyance. "Oh, for Godric's sake! Harry. Ron. What happened? I don't remember that night at all."

It was Ginny who filled in the missing pieces for her. "We'd just come back from Quidditch practice and were too tired to go down and get some supper. You offered to go to the kitchens to ask the house-elves if they could send food up to the common room instead. We all thought that was a perfect chance to set up for your surprise birthday party. You didn't come back, though. Around eight o'clock, Harry finally checked the Marauder's Map and saw you located in the dungeon. Somehow you ended up there, alone in a locked room with Malfoy. Harry, Ron and I rushed down to the dungeon together to retrieve you. You were screaming and crying when Harry opened the door, and you half-fainted. Malfoy never said anything. He just walked past us and back down the corridor. Then we took you up to the Hospital Wing. Ron carried you."

Hermione absorbed everything she was told. None of it was at all familiar, however. Why she didn't remember something so scary and important as being locked up with Malfoy for a few hours? "What happened after that?" she prompted.

Ginny took a deep breath and continued. "Well, then you woke up on Friday and eventually we met up in the common room. You never really told us what happened the night before, because we were all focused on you opening up your birthday present instead. Afterwards, we had Quidditch practice again, and you went back into your room to read or something. You were already in bed by the time I'd tucked in. The next morning, Colin found you lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, and he couldn't rouse you. He's the one who actually woke me up by shouting for help. I rushed downstairs and you were unconscious. Ron took you to the Hospital Wing again. We stayed a bit at your cot on Saturday and Sunday. You only woke up today. That's everything I know."

Harry and Ron nodded in agreement with Ginny's version of the weekend recount.

Hermione bit her lip. Something about the story seemed wrong, but even as she struggled to recall anything from the previous weekend, she realized that she could not. A solid, gray wall in her mind blocked her every attempt. She shook her head. "I don't remember any of that," she fretted, leaning her head on her hands in agitation. "Why can't I remember?" Her group was quiet, warily watching her. She felt like a freak on parade under their scrutiny.

Harry spoke up first. "Don't push it, Hermione. It'll come back to you in time."

Ginny nodded in agreement, and rubbed her hand along Hermione's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. "You'll remember, eventually."

Ron piped in his solidarity as well. "Yeah, no need to stress, 'Mione."

There was that word again. Gods, how she hated it!

"I _am not _stressed!" she loudly exclaimed, hopping up from the bench, her temper suddenly ablaze. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I've just lost some of my memory, Ron, not my marbles!"

The faces of her friends – of most of the students in the room, in fact – were shocked by Hermione's unexpected outburst. Looking about, she realized her _faux pas_, and turned on her heel to flee the room in embarrassment. As she passed by the Slytherin table, her face heated up by degrees, knowing Malfoy had been watching and probably mentally recording the incident for his own private future amusement.

She rushed through the Entrance Hall, up the seven full flights of moving stairs, and back into the Gryffindor Tower in record time. Throwing herself down on her bed in her dormitory, Hermione wept, feeling suddenly very alone and very stupid. A wave of sadness gripped her in its swell and shook her around.

What had happened to her to cause her to lose her memory? And what had happened that night in the dungeon between her and Malfoy that had apparently upset her enough to make her faint? Why did she faint again on Friday night? And why had Draco been staring at her as if he wanted to hurt her?

Whatever it was that had brought on these episodes and riled up Malfoy were connected somehow - in her heart, she just _knew_ that to be true. She was terrified to find out what had happened, though.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER SEVEN:  
**

**According to canon, Hermione took Muggle Studies her third year and excelled in it, but dropped it due to an overloaded study load, and never took the O.W.L. for it in her fifth year. Despite that, I decided to have her return to the subject during her sixth year for the sake of this fic. Even though there is no canon (novel) record of Muggle Studies being offered past fifth year, I have decided for the sake of this fic that Muggle Studies is offered up to seventh year and that there is a N.E.W.T. for it as well (for those wanting to work in a Muggle relations-type career, and for Obliviators who are forced to modify memories of Muggles, so they will replace the memories correctly). I envision this story's Hermione as the overly-ambitious girl we all know and love from the novels, and see such motivation translated as a burning desire to excel in **_**every**_** class that Hogwarts has to offer (minus Divination, which she absolutely can't abide). She may not be able to take the N.E.W.T. for this class (as she didn't take the O.W.L. for it), but I could see her considering it a bonus entry on her ****Yvelinnes University**** application****. It fits her personality and it works for the over-arcing plot, so let's go with it, shall we?**

**_The British Ministry's Charter of Rights _by Chroniculus Punnet is a book I created for this fic. Chroniculus Punnet is a canon historian and author, though, in the HP universe****. **

**Chuggs = A homage to Dr. Seuss from his story, "If I Ran The Zoo" (pub. 1950). Highly recommended reading for any age.**

.

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

_**"Fall to Pieces" by Avril Lavigne**_


	8. Ch 8: Party

**Chapter Eight: Party**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Sunday, October 27 – Thursday, October 31, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

More than a month had passed in relative quiet after her outburst in the Great Hall. Word had gotten around, of course, of Hermione's "stress-related problems" and no one wanted to incur her wrath during such a volatile time in her life, especially knowing her skills with curses and jinxes. Everyone tiptoed around her instead, acting none the wiser. No one asked her again about her amnesia, nor about that weekend.

During that time, Hermione had spent her time absorbed in her schoolwork. It hadn't taken her long to catch up to the syllabus in all of her classes. She'd also stuck it out with Professor Binns' private lessons in Wizarding Law. She excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as well. Her climb back up to the top spot in her grade was progressing nicely, despite the set-backs.

Everything seemed to finally be going right for Hermione. The anxiety she'd felt in weeks past was melting away entirely, and she was really looking forward to the Halloween House parties this year. Her favorite holiday fell on a Thursday this time around, and since her schedule was cleared on Fridays purposefully, that meant she'd be able to stay up until the wee hours of the morning, if she wanted to. Bliss! Sitting in the Great Hall over supper that night, she put her head together with Ginny on what costumes they should wear.

"We should wear something low-cut and sexy, and use spells to transmogrify our faces, eyes and hair, if need be," her friend suggested.

Hermione considered the idea. "I'm not sure. I was thinking more of an angelic theme." She'd always wanted to wear a long white robe and bespell a pair of temporary wings onto her back. Was that too childish, though? As if reading her thoughts, Ginny scoffed.

"Come on, Hermione. Live a little!" She lowered her voice. "You do want to get my brother's attention, don't you?"

In regards to her feelings for Ron, Hermione knew it was always better to say too little than too much. She'd learned that the hard way over the last two years. She also knew that Ginny would take it personally if she let it slip that she was trying hard to concentrate on her studies right now, and that her relationship with Ron wasn't a top priority. Besides, she figured she'd let things take their natural course with him. There was no need to rush, right? He was only sixteen and she just barely seventeen. There was plenty of time for snogging and such later. Still, she couldn't let her real thoughts be known to Ginny. She didn't want to lose her tempestuous best girl friend over this issue. "Okay, what did you have in mind?" she compromised.

Ginny grinned, throwing a wicked look at the back of Harry's head. "I know just the thing! It'll be sexy and net the attention of both of our love interests."

Hermione inwardly sighed, going along with the plan for now.

**X~~~~~X**

Thursday came very quickly. In between the flurry of costume preparation and studies, Hermione had been kept too busy to do more than occasionally glance up at the world around her. The only time she'd gone out was when Ginny and she sauntered over to Hogsmeade to pick up some props for their costumes on Wednesday afternoon, before dinner. Ginny had been doing all of the magical sewing of their costumes as a result, occasionally approaching Hermione with some material, or with seamstress tape to take measurements. Now that she had a chance to actually try on the costume itself, Hermione wished she'd had more involvement in the process. It was a stunning piece of work, true. Ginny had certainly been blessed with her mother's sewing skills. However, she felt rather embarrassed to wear the costume. What was a "Queen of Dark Hearts," anyway?

With a sigh, she pulled down on the black, red and white crinoline French maid-styled skirt again, hoping it could be stretched a few more inches to cover her knees, at the very least. It sprang back into place, though, just barely covering her thighs, much to her consternation. She also fidgeted with the top of the dress. It was, essentially, a black silken halter with wide side straps that covered her upper arms only. Over the dress was a red and white corset with black leather lacings. Attached to the corset were white fabric plackets with large, cut out heart designs that allowed the red fabric underneath to show through. She wore a pair of thigh-high black stockings with red bow-tie garters fitted to the tops, and a pair of black, high-heeled shoes. All-in-all, Hermione thought the outfit showed entirely too much skin for her comfort. What would people think?

Ginny sauntered in at that very moment. What she wore was equally as stunning as Hermione's costume. "And what are you supposed to be?" she asked her friend, dismayed that Gin's costume covered just slightly more surface area than her own.

Ginny whirled around, and affected a 'ta-da' pose. "I am the "Enchanted Queen of Hearts!" she proclaimed. Her costume consisted of a mini-gown halter featuring quilted detail along the hem and mini-white pleated embellishments down the front of the bodice and high-backed collar. In the center of the halter, three red hearts trailed down to her waist. The bottom half of her costume consisted of a detachable flowing skirt with matching quilted detail. The skirt separated in the front, flowing long on the back and sides. She wore knee-high, heeled black boots and a rhinestone studded crown perched upon her up-do.

"Ah, so this is an _Alice In Wonderland_ theme we've got going here?" Hermione asked.

"Yep!" Ginny conceded. "Hey, where's your hat?"

Hermione sighed, grabbed the accessory in question and plopped it on top of her head. Ginny came up behind her and adjusted it so it sat at a perfectly jaunted angle. "I'm glad you used Sleekeazy's Hair Potion again. You look really amazing with your hair styled and up off your face."

Hermione felt a strange flutter in her heart at Ginny's words.

_"You look better with your hair pulled back from your face, you know." _

Where had she heard that before?

Her knees unexpectedly knocked together and gave out from under her. The instinctual reaction was to reach out and grab onto something to cushion or prevent the fall - so she clamped down on Ginny's shoulders. Thankfully, her friend reacted fast and with some measure of strength, grabbing a hold of her arms and automatically readjusting her center of gravity to balance them out so they didn't land on the floor. Instead, she led Hermione to sit on the edge of the bed. "Are you okay? Should I get someone?"

The feeling of unexplainable weakness quickly passed, and Hermione let out a shaky breath. "No, I'm all right. Just a little head rush. It… well, it must be because this corset is too tight." She tried to make it sound like a joke, but Ginny wasn't biting.

"Maybe we shouldn't go tonight," she offered.

Hermione shook her head. She wasn't going to ruin the fun for Ginny. Her friend had worked very hard all week to put together these costumes, and there was no way that effort was going to be shown any disrespect. "I'm fine, really. Like I said, it was just a head rush."

Ginny looked doubtful, but also relieved. She obviously hadn't wanted Hermione to cancel either. "Okay, but if we need to come back to the dorms at any point, you let me know."

"Promise," Hermione acceded.

Ginny helped her to her feet with a hand, an excited grin on her face. "Shall we go turn heads then?" She held her arm out to Hermione, who linked hers through it and the two best girl friends were off.

**X~~~~~X**

The duo had certainly done their share of attracting male attention at both House Ravenclaw's and House Gryffindor's Halloween gatherings. No one else was even in their league, in terms of the accolades received by members of the opposite sex. Hermione gave all credit for the costuming work to Ginny, where it was rightfully due, of course. An ego bonus came when she'd managed to spy Ron staring at her hungrily from across the room at one point.

Around eleven p.m., Hermione and Ginny headed down into the basement to the Hufflepuff party. Again, the two young women made the rounds, and again, they were the center of all male attention. Ginny reveled in the spotlight, but Hermione soon tired of it. Within half an hour, she was ready to go. She sought out her redheaded friend in the room, and found her in conversation with Ernie Macmillan. "I'm going to head back to Gryffindor now," she whispered into the other witch's ear, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder. "No need for you to go, too. Stay and have fun."

Ginny nodded. "Okay then. See you later!"

Hermione grinned. "Whatever time you crawl home, I'm sure."

Ginny threw her a wink, and Hermione left the basement, heading for home.

As she was walking up one of the moving staircases towards the portrait of The Fat Lady, she inexplicably changed her mind, guided on by a strong instinct to visit the Astronomy Tower instead. Attributing it to the need to be alone, to think about the voice she'd heard earlier in her head, she headed up the million flights of stairs to the open air spire.

It wasn't until she'd reached the top that she realized someone else was already present at her second favorite haunt in the castle. Uncomfortable with interrupting another's private thoughts, she turned to go back down. A caustic, familiar voice, however, stopped her cold.

"Stalking me now, Granger?"

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER EIGHT:**

.

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

_**"Girls Nite Out" by Tyler Collins**_


	9. Ch 9: Confrontation

**Chapter Nine: Confrontation**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Thursday, October 31, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

Hermione turned a scathing look upon her long-time tormentor. "Stalk you, Malfoy? You wish."

Oddly, Slytherin's Viper Prince didn't offer an immediate comeback. Instead, he simply watched her, his posture and expression wary, as if he were waiting for an argument to ensue - and for _her_ to be the one who bullied through it this time. Such uncharacteristic behavior gave her a moment's pause... and on the coattails of that foolish hesitation, she realized that her reluctance to leave had actually made her front-and-center available for the confrontation with this wizard that she'd been hoping to avoid all month.

The truth was, for the first time in their six-year acquaintance, Draco Malfoy had succeeded in making her truly nervous around him. The staring contest he'd been waging with her for the last two months - since day one of the new term - had changed so drastically from how it had begun that she was completely thrown off-kilter. The initial provoking smirks and mocking leers had given way to sincerely contemplative inspections by the end of the first week of Malfoy's new game. Around the middle of September, his gaze had vacillated between curiosity and interest, as if he was finally seeing the real her for the first time - the woman above and beyond the hateful label of 'Mudblood'. After the loss of her memory, though, it was obvious that he'd become furious with her, and his glaring became outright intimidating, guaranteeing a later punishment for some transgression she hadn't remembered ever being guilty of performing. Two weeks later, his glacial gaze was back to cool, calculating assessment. Since then, they'd been a mix between disappointment, irritation, a queer sort of panic, and just yesterday, what could only be described as a kind of... well... _lamenting_.

The violent mood swings Malfoy was apparently prone to this year had definitely not gone unnoticed, and had even, on occasion, unwittingly taken her along for the ride, try as she might to remain unaffected by him. As a result, she'd gone out of her way to avoid being alone with the unpredictable Slytherin at all costs and to surround herself with others who could act as barrier between her and his disconcerting staring.

Unfortunately, tonight, she'd somehow maneuvered herself right into the perfect opportunity for him to try something underhanded. And there would be no witnesses or interference given the isolation of their location - a fact that made her considerably uncomfortable. Skedaddling right then would probably be the smart move.

She started back down the stairs intending on returning to her dorm, but Malfoy stopped her descent a second time with an audacious query that simply couldn't be ignored.

"So what if I did? You daring enough to start?"

She turned back, stepping up onto the Tower's smooth granite flooring to face him down. "What did you say?" she hissed, incredulous at his outrageous proposition.

He was quiet again for another moment, examining her through narrowed eyes, the poignant pause in the air unmistakable in its expectancy: he wanted and anticipated something more from her tonight - something that would entirely change the dynamics of their long-term relationship. From the dark, lustful glimmer in his gaze, and the way he appraised her from head to toe, licking his lips, and the obvious bulge at the front of his trousers, so clear from this angle, she easily perceived what he desired.

Holy Saints and Crows, Draco Malfoy _wanted_ her! His hungry eyes were telling her that he wanted to _own_ her body, heart and soul.

The realization of her rival's true intentions totally floored her. Heat flooded her face. Under her ribs, her heart hammered out an accelerated rhythm. This couldn't be real. There was no way on this green earth that he would ever consider her in such a manner!

But then, that wasn't entirely true, was it? He'd looked at her just like this once before, hadn't he? That first day of term, when they'd stared each other down in the busy corridor his eyes had darkened and glittered with sexual interest as he roamed the length of her with a covetous leer. It had only been a passing flash of emotion, but it had been undeniable.

And just like then, her body reacted as if it were electrified, every nerve standing to attention. The corner of her lip uncontrollably twitched and her thighs gave a similar tremble.

This was utter madness! It was insanity at its worst!

No, no, no. This _had_ to be just another one of his sick jokes. There was just no way he could really want her.

As if he'd plucked her doubts from her brain and found a temporary, tactical retreat necessary, his expression suddenly changed again - to the taunting, smug aspect she was used to. Like flipping a switch, the cutting wit was back. "I asked what you were wearing." Ogling her costume again, he crossed his arms and leaned against one of the walls, smirking like the Cheshire Cat from Alice's fantasy world. "You look like a tart."

Hermione literally saw red. Ginny had worked hard on this costume, and she (as well as half of the boys at the parties downstairs) thought she looked _fecking_ wonderful in it! Her fingers curled up into fists at her side. "I happen to be the Queen of Dark Hearts," she stormily replied. "And so help me, Malfoy, if you ever call me a tart again, I'll slap you into next week."

Not intimidated in the least by her threat, Draco grinned even wider at her and did the unthinkable: "It's spelled T-A-R-T, Granger."

Having finally reached her limit with Malfoy's continual harassment, her restraint snapped and she launched herself across the short space between them. Her palm came up to slap him, but quicker than she could track, he caught her arm in mid-swing. To add insult to injury, he grabbed her other arm just as swiftly and then held them both at bay. He laughed in her face, goading her on. "Ooh, hoo! You're so feisty when we're alone, princess - not afraid to let out the animal within once you get riled up! I rather like that about you."

His words penetrated her ill-tempered mind and between one breath and the next, she stopped struggling against him. A lead weight settled in the pit of her stomach at his insinuations, and all of the qualms about what they'd done together that night they'd been locked into the same room in the dungeon came flooding back. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Draco seemed confused by her question at first, but a second later, he was scowling, his amusement abandoned. "You can quit the act now. No one else is here."

She blinked, baffled by his words. "What are you talking about? What act?"

Angrily, he pulled her into intimate contact with his body, his face inches from her, menacing in its growing ire. Her breasts rubbed against his torso, and as the layers of crinoline had been jostled upwards in the struggle, high against her naked inner thigh, she felt his heavy erection pressing through his woolen trousers. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Hermione. Amnesia? Please. I'm not that stupid."

She was honest-to-Godric baffled now. "What? But it's true! There are serious gaps in my memory and I don't know why! It starts the day of my birthday. Ginny told me that that you and I were locked in a room together in the dungeon that night, but I can't remember anything at all from that time, or the few days following." He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. "I'm telling the truth, blast it! It's all one big, frustrating blank!"

Draco intently stared at her face, seeking any twitch of a falsehood, but after a solid half-minute of silent consideration between them, he finally decided to believe her. Drawing back, he released his grip on her arms. "You really don't remember. You aren't lying." It was a statement, not a question, and he seemed as bewildered by the truth as she had been initially.

Shoving away from his warm, hard body, caressing her sore wrists, she glowered at him. How dare he place his hands on her without her permission! "Of course I'm telling the truth! I wouldn't lie about something as serious as memory loss! Besides, do you really think I'd endure being the brunt of everyone's stares and whispered jokes on the subject for the last month if I could prevent it?" To her utter mortification, hot tears flooded her eyes. The gap in her memories was a loss of knowledge that made her feel slightly weak and ineffectual. She'd tried a few spells to reverse the condition, all for naught. That she couldn't use this wonderful magic ability she'd been gifted to change her own circumstances in this one case upset her. Failing at something - especially something _this_ important - had shook up her confidence.

Her defenses up, her resentment gave way to bitterness in a heartbeat, which bloomed into anger. "But I wish I did know what happened that one time, Malfoy. Then I could make you pay for whatever it was you did to me," she snarled in righteous anger, her niggling suspicions that he'd somehow taken something important from her that night buzzing to the surface. "I _know_ somehow that my loss of memory is at least partly your fault."

Draco's jaw fell open in undisguised surprise, but once more, his features promptly shifted: he suddenly looked very miserable and much older. He turned towards the Tower's metal railing, leaned out over it and stared up at the stars above as if seeking divine guidance. "I never... I didn't hurt your body, Granger, if that's what you're wondering," he assured her in a defeated voice. "You can still have the big, white wedding someday. I'll bet Potter or Weaslebee will be thrilled by the news." He sounded resentful, subdued. "It really doesn't matter what you do to get even with me now. I'll be paying for that night the rest of my life anyway."

He sounded so sincere and remorseful that there could be no doubt as to the truth anymore: whatever he'd done to her that night - not rape, she knew now, but what else? - Draco regretted it. She'd actually made the King of Apathy feel remorse. What should have been a sweet victory left the taste of bitter ashes in her mouth, though. This wasn't a gloating moment; it felt too pathetic and sad to warrant any form of further cruelty.

She didn't want to know anymore. He'd told her as much as she needed to hear. Escaping the awkwardness of the situation instead seemed rather prudent and pressing. Turning, refusing this time to stop, no matter what else he said or did, she fled from him.

When she'd returned to her bed in Gryffindor Tower, and replayed the conversation with Draco in her mind, only then did she realize that his was the voice she'd heard in her mind earlier that night, when she'd had her almost-fainting spell. It must have been from their time in the room together. If only she could remember the rest…

She reached under her pillow and pulled out a white, silken square of cloth. She rubbed her fingertips over the green embroidery thread and deeply inhaled. Bergamot and amber, just like the cologne she'd smelled on Malfoy tonight as he'd pulled her in close. At least now she knew who "DLM" was.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER NINE:**

**Holy Saints and Crows = **Medieval British slang meaning, "by all that is holy as well as evil." Basically, the person is stunned to the point of wondering whether what they are witnessing/hearing/etc. is Divine Providence or the work of the Devil, as they aren't sure.

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

**_"Monster" by Lady Gaga_ (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	10. Ch 10: Confession

**Chapter Ten: Confession**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**Friday, November 1 – Saturday, November 2, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

After what had transpired between them in the Astronomy Tower the other night, Hermione forcibly avoided looking at or talking to Draco Malfoy the next day. She buried away the tiny doubts that nagged at the back of her mind and tugged at her heart, and instead dove into the comforting familiarity of her studies. She stayed up late that Friday night reading, and awoke on Saturday feeling refreshed. Gryffindor's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff was this afternoon, and she was excited, as her House team had an excellent chance of taking the Cup again this year.

She sauntered out of her room and down to the Great Hall for breakfast, contentedly humming.

Today was going to be a great day. She could just feel it!

**X~~~~~X**

Damn Ronald Weasley, that hormonally-challenged moron! How could he kiss Lavender Brown - and in front of her no less?

Bitter and angry at his public rejection of her feelings (the way Hermione figured it, snogging out with her roommate in front of the whole of their House had been a clear declaration of his disinterest in _her_), she felt an overwhelming urge to hurt something. Sadly, the revenge she'd dished up with the magicked bird had given her no real satisfaction.

Alone after waving Harry away, afraid she'd take out the urge for violence upon him, she'd headed for the nearest exit of the castle to escape. She needed breathing space; the stone walls were too confining at that moment. Once outside, she wandered the covered walkways surrounding the courtyard, resolutely ignoring all of the happy couples she spied giggling and snogging in every corner. Heading out onto the parapet bridge, far from prying eyes, she meandered over to a favorite spot – the place where she'd once chastised Harry during fourth year – as it afforded her a gorgeous view of the Forbidden Forest far below.

How could Ron have done that to her? Surely he knew by now that she loved him… Or did she? She'd always just chalked up her feelings for her ginger boy under the umbrella of 'love,' but was that what she really felt for him? After all, it wasn't like the two of them were entirely compatible in their personalities, and there were many things he did that drove her spare.

In her mind, she began working through a pros-cons list.

The things she liked about Ron were few, but rather important: he was generous with what little he had to offer, he never put on airs and you always knew where you stood with him, as he was rather candid about his feelings and thoughts, he was very protective of and loyal to the things he cared for, and he easily laughed. He had a way about him that kept you from being too serious all the time and he encouraged you to loosen up and have fun. They had some things in common, as well: being in Gryffindor, a familial love for Harry and Ginny, close friendships with Neville, Seamus, Dean, Luna…

Actually, that pretty much summed-up the list of positives.

As for the negatives, well…

First, she didn't care for the way he constantly talked with his mouth full and shoveled food down his gullet like he was eating at a trough. Those sorts of manners disgusted her, honestly, as proper meal etiquette had been drilled into her from the time she was very little. A person's level of classiness, her grandmother had always said, was judged by how they conducted their affairs around the dinner table.

Then there was his distinct lack of motivation and enthusiasm for any subject other than Quidditch. Plainly put, Ron was lazy when it came to school work, manipulating her into doing it for him or cheating off of Harry so he could spend more time enjoying his leisure activities, such as sports. Hermione didn't care for that proclivity _at all_, as she was a firm believer in achieving success through your own hard, honest work. It always made her feel poorly to know she was helping him deceive the professors and swindle the educational system, but he didn't seemed bothered one bit about causing her such discomfort. _That _bothered her as well.

He let his mum boss him about, a trait that boded ill for any future wife of his, as Ron didn't seem the type to put his foot down and tell his mother to mind her own business when the occasion called for such drastic measures. Her father had always told her that a real man puts his wife and children first, and that his parents should both expect and respect that decision, but the idea of Ron confronting Molly was laughably ludicrous. He literally shook in his shoes whenever she put her hands to her hips and glared. Honestly, the only one of the boys that she could see standing up to the Weasley matriarch was Bill. She could never respect Ron if he allowed his mother to dictate their future together.

On a more personal note, there were also the disparaging comments Ron made on occasion about her appearance. He made no bones about the fact that he wished she'd be more 'girly' and care for her hair better, or polish her nails, or wear lip gloss. But whenever she'd done such things to try to catch his attention, he hardly seemed to notice. He outwardly expressed a dislike for the scent of her soap and shampoo. And twice over the last two years, he'd had the gall to insinuate that she wasn't attractive enough to land a boyfriend. Honestly, it wasn't as if he was a paragon of sexual magnetism or masculine charm, either…

She had to stop, realizing that she was working her blood pressure – and her resentment level - up.

And anyway, the internal arguing over Ron's appealing attributes versus his more dissuasive personality quirks hardly mattered, as apparently she simply wasn't his type. He liked his women acutely more aggressive, less intelligent, and with big blue eyes and manageable hair.

The dam came unstuck at that point. Unable to prevent the tears, she started crying again in heartbreak. The tears came harder as she grew increasingly embittered by the memory of her redheaded best friend's arms encircling Lavender's waist, of his lips passionately kissing the girl as fiercely as he was being kissed. "How could you have done that to me, Ron?" she sobbed. "You thoughtless, stupid boy!"

She rode the storm for a solid ten minutes, before she realized how pathetic and silly she was behaving. Here she was shivering now that the winter's chill was starting to seep into her very bones (she'd foolishly run out of the common room without her jacket), and she was too caught up in her own private pity-party to notice how dangerously cold the night had become. Common sense dictated that she immediately move her bum back to the castle, into the warmth before she'd caught her death. The situation with Ron and Lavender certainly would not be solved in one night, and she could just as easily consider her future options inside.

She pulled out the embroidered handkerchief she'd been carrying around with her for weeks, and dabbed at her bloodshot eyes, rouged cheeks and nose. Oh, how she hated to break down, knowing how it made her skin blotchy! Her mum had always told her true that she simply didn't have the kind of face that could pull off a pretty crying spell.

Another icy blast of wind blew through the open-arch bridge, slamming into her very marrow, making her uncontrollably shiver. Godric, she needed to get back indoors fast! Tucking the handkerchief back into her pocket, she turned to go back to her dorm…

…and stopped short.

To her utter surprise, Malfoy was leaning against one of the stone pillars a few feet away, intently staring at her, an uneasy frown upon his face. His hands rested in the pockets of his fur-trimmed, knee-length, wool coat, and he was still and silent. "What do you want?" she asked, too emotionally depleted to verbally spar with him at that exact moment.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

She sighed, hugging her torso, her teeth beginning to chatter. "I don't feel like fighting tonight. Just leave me alone." She started to move past him, back the way she had come.

"Merlin, you're such a crybaby, Granger."

Her temper provoked as much as it could take for one night, she rounded on him with irate indignation. "I am _not!_" Unfortunately, her ill-humored fit was short lived, as tremors wracked her body. Oh, Merlin, she was going to become an icicle at this rate! There was certainly no time for such nonsense as fighting with Slytherin's Prince, as the cold was beginning to become exceedingly painful.

As if someone had turned on a portable furnace, she was suddenly enveloped in blessed warmth. Arms came around her to enclose her inside a long, pleasantly comfy coat. "Idiot," Malfoy murmured the rebuke gentle against her ear. "You're freezing to death."

Hermione's head spun. W-w-what kind of game was this? Was he actually being _nice _to her? She squirmed to escape, but his arms locked around her waist, inhibiting her range of movement. "Do you want to end up in the Hospital Wing again?" he demanded.

"No, but-"

He tsk'd, cutting her off. "Then stay still for a few minutes until you heat up, dummy."

Too tired and cold to argue, Hermione did as bade.

It was an awkward few minutes intimately pressed against Draco's body, as he propped up his chin on the top of her head, and she was aware once more of just how much taller he stood. She could feel his upper body brush ever so slightly against her breasts with the soft rise and fall of his air, and hear his strong heart beating through the layers of his clothing. His cologne – bergamot and amber – persuasively drew her in until her forehead rested against his chest and her hands upon his hips. The quiet, the warmth, the lovely scent and the rhythmic pattern of his breathing worked in tandem to lull her into relaxing, and she closed her eyes.

Behind her lids the patina of a comforting red aura slowly blossomed.

Strangely, being held in a man's arms – even Malfoy's arms, and especially after the night she'd had – was comforting. Oddly, she didn't question any of it, nor did she wonder why that was. She simply let it _be_, feeling and not thinking for the brief moment of time that they stood together, neither speaking.

Gradually, her shivers decreased until they eventually stopped. At that point, she felt sufficiently thawed enough to make it back to the castle. With a queer pang of regret, she put some space between them, letting go of her grasp on his waist. "I'm fine now. Thank you."

His chest expanded and he expelled a deep sigh through his nose, as if he were reluctant to release her. The expelled air tickled past her hair, causing electric sparks to run the gamut of her spinal column, startling and embarrassingly arousing her.

_Oh!_

She clamped her thighs together in automatic response. Her heart sped up, and the blood rush roared through her body.

Malfoy dropped his arms and stepped back. Immediately, the arctic, northern wind rushed into the gap between them and bit at her again. She wrapped her arms around her torso. "Merlin's beard!" she cursed, teeth chattering again.

Her companion made a disgusted noise that escaped as a hiss, and then his jacket was draped across her shoulders. "Take it for now," he commanded as she started to argue. Before she could get a word in edge-wise, he took hold of her arm and dragged her behind him back towards the castle at a brisk pace. His fingers dug into her wrist and he jerked her around corners so hard, she thought her shoulder might pop out of its socket.

"You're hurting me," she protested, pulling at where he clasped her too tightly.

The pressure eased up, but Draco still heaved her along in tow, moving quickly towards the Clock Tower Entrance – the closest way back into the castle from the covered bridge.

When they finally crossed the cobbled back courtyard and slipped indoors, the sweltering heat instantly assailed her and within seconds, she was perspiring. She removed the heavy, woolen coat and handed it back to Malfoy, nodding in thanks. He took it with a swipe of his hand and a black look, and draped it over his arm. Clearly, he was angry again.

"Why are you always mad?" she asked, searching his face for a hint or three. "What have I done this school year to get you so riled? Every time I turn around, you're glowering at me – beyond what you normally do, I mean."

She wasn't sure why it mattered – this was _Malfoy_, after all, and he was always livid, irritated or exasperated about something where she was concerned – but it was very important to her that she understand the reason for his hostility towards her at right that moment. Perhaps if they talked the problem through, they could come to some sort of understanding, and then he'd stop glaring at her all the time.

A weighty frown lined his face. "Why were you out in the dead of winter without a jacket?" he countered. "Only an idiot would do that, Granger."

She felt tears sting her eyes again. She'd had an emotionally turbulent night, and the last thing she needed was to be scolded for so obvious and foolish a mistake. "I was upset. I wasn't thinking," she defended, rankling.

He ran a free hand through his hair in obvious frustration. "You're _always_ upset. What's it this time? Did Potter or Weaslebee forget to kiss you goodnight?"

She hadn't even registered the move until her palm connected with his cheek in a stinging slap. Abruptly mortified by her action, and still stung by his words, she turned and fled down the corridor, heading back for her common room. As she ran, she began bawling again.

_N__o, he didn't kiss me goodnight – he kissed her instead! Stupid, foolish…_

Malfoy caught her in a dozen strides, grabbing her from behind and shoving her against the wall, carelessly throwing his coat to the floor at the same time. He loomed over her, teeth bared and clenched, pinning her wrists to the sides and stepping into her personal space. His breath was a hot blast on her cheek. "You ungrateful, little bitch," he snarled, shaking her once. "I should have left you to freeze out there!"

They glared at each other, she through her tears, and he through his rage.

"I wish you had!" she spit in fury. "I wish-" Her chest constricted with renewed pain as she recalled the way Ron had kissed Lavender tonight. "Oh, gods, it hurts _so much__!_" She folded in on herself, going limp and sliding down the wall. Sobbing at her enemy's feet until her innocent heart purged itself of its crush for her best friend should have been the humiliation of her life, but just then Hermione could have cared less that her grief was being witnessed by the last person on earth she'd have wanted to know. In a way, it was almost cathartic, as it forced them both to perceive the rawness of her humanity.

Malfoy gave another deep sigh, this one sounded distinctly defeated, and crouched down to her level, gently gripping her wrists in his strong hands. "What happened, Hermione? Tell me."

Maybe it was his use of her first name, or maybe it was his compassionate tone – something so very un-Malfoy-ish - or maybe it was simply because he'd kindly shared his jacket with her when she'd had need, but Hermione suddenly felt as if she could trust this man with her confidence. As far as decisions went, it wasn't a very rational one. However, a strong feminine intuition prodded her to seize this chance, and so she took the leap of faith: she unloaded everything about her relationship with Ron to Draco right there, in the torch-lit hallway, on the floor.

She told him of their growing friendship over the first three years at Hogwarts, and how she'd first come to fully appreciate him on the day he'd played live Wizard's Chess and was gravely wounded for the sake of his friends. She imparted the details of the time she'd first realized that she had a crush on Ron at the start of fourth year, and of how she'd made a serious effort to look pretty for the Yule Ball to catch his attention, despite the fact he hadn't asked her to be his date. She even admitted that she'd gone to the dance with Viktor Krum just to bother Ron, and about how the scheme backfired on her. She reasoned that it had been a mistake to play such a game, because ever since, Ron had refused to be alone with her, whenever possible. She admitted that it also distressed her when he would only seem to declare that he liked her when he needed her to do his homework assignments for him.

Next she told him about rigging the Quidditch try-outs earlier this year so that the lecherous and obnoxious Cormac McLaggen wouldn't get the Keeper's slot that Ron so dearly coveted, and how doing so had led to him becoming the team's hero tonight. That seemingly innocent action, she realized, had ended up costing her everything, as it set up the scenario for the rather ardent snog he'd shared with one Miss Lavender Brown in front of the whole bloody House. She explained the retributive cursed birds she'd sent after him later and how that small retribution had made her feel empty, not powerful, as she'd hoped it would.

She ended her tirade by admitting how much it had hurt to see Ron touching another girl when he wouldn't even touch her, despite everything she'd done over the years to get him to do so.

In silence, Malfoy listened to her narration, and when she was done venting her soul's poison, she timidly looked up at him, suddenly feeling very foolish for involving him at all.

He was looking down at the empty space between them, lost in thought, dejection etched into the lines of his face and dulling his steel-colored eyes. As Hermione took in his countenance, she realized how much older he appeared this year. He'd aged over the summer, and she wondered what had happened to change him so. Had it been the incarceration of his father in Azkaban this past June? The press had been absolutely merciless towards the last two remaining Malfoys, she knew, dredging up every small negative detail they could about the family and its history. She'd kept abreast of the man's incarceration and trial, and how it had been reported to negatively affect Draco and his mother, through her regular subscriptions to _The Daily Prophet_, and by reading through Molly's _Witch Weekly_ back issues this past summer as she'd convalesced (Dolohov's curse, which she'd been stuck with during the fight at the Department of Mysteries, had required weeks of foul-tasting potions and rest to shake off). Perhaps being hounded by the wizarding paparazzi, had taken its toll on his health?

His hold on her wrists was loose enough that she was able to remove a hand from his grasp, reach up and stroke the furrow in his chin, wondering how much sorrow it must take to create something that deep…

He jerked back at her touch, snapping to attention. Just as quickly, he let go of her, collected his coat from the floor next to him, and stood. Brushing the dust off the woolen fabric, he appeared to deliberate how best to respond to her confession. He opened his mouth, shut it, frowned and then tried again. To her chagrin, he chose the typical Draco Malfoy way out: indifferent heartlessness. "Forget that git, Granger," he pronounced. "You could do much better."

With that short and sweet verdict, he swiftly strode off.

Hermione watched him leave, stupefied. She'd just bared her soul to him, and that was the best he could come up with? Those were his pearls of wisdom for her? Where was the sympathetic commiseration? She felt terribly cheated.

But then, what on Nyx had she expected from someone like _him_?

Sighing, she pulled herself up off the floor, and reached for the handkerchief in her pocket again to clean up. Her fingers trailed over the embroidered letters on the hem – Draco's initials, she was sure of it now. Again, she wondered why, where and how she'd come to possess the item. Had it been the night they'd been locked in the dungeon together? Had it been like tonight with the jacket – something he'd given to her in assistance? To her immense frustration, she just _couldn't_ remember. It seemed an important, rather pressing detail, and yet those few days in September were solidly blocked by that gray wall erected within in her memories.

Perhaps, one day, she'd find the reason and those lost seventy-eight hours would be returned to her.

She pocketed the hanky, bullied up her nerve, and made her way back to the Gryffindor common room, forcing her back ramrod straight, holding her head high. From now on, Hermione determined, Ron would not see her hurt by his stupidity. She would not let his rejection destroy her, either. She had more important things to live for – specifically, her future educational and career plans – and she would, in time, get over this first heartbreak.

As she walked, Hermione had an amusing realization: pureblood, cantankerous Draco Malfoy, had helped _her _out three times tonight - twice with his jacket and the final time by lending an ear and offering up his advice. Despite the crude counsel, his words _had_ adequately done their job; in an indirect, very Slytherin-manner, they had given her the courage she needed to face tomorrow.

_Thank you,_ she cast the thought, chuckling in wonder.

Maybe he wasn't such an insensitive little blighter after all.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TEN:**

**The set map and mock-up of the entire castle grounds from "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" movie (from which the remaining of the movie series, as well as the "Harry Potter" theme park in Florida follows, discarding the map and set of the first two movies entirely) shows that the covered bridge is gotten to from the Clock Tower Entrance in the back of the castle. After crossing the bridge, students find themselves at the large stone monoliths overlooking Hagrid's hut (where Draco was punched by Hermione in the third movie). I have used that map for this fic, as it is the most familiar and referenced of all the **_**official **_**layouts of the castle and grounds.**

**Nyx = Greek mythological primordial Goddess of Night, daughter of Chaos.**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

_**"Come Clean" by Hillary Duff**_** (Hermione's thoughts about Ron)**

**__****"All I Need To Know" by Emma Bunton**** (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	11. Ch 11: Cunning Plans

**Chapter Eleven: Cunning Plans**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**_  
_**November 2-3, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year) **_

Draco hurriedly made his way back towards the Slytherin common room, his stomach in knots. He passed by students sneaking through the hallways, but paid them no heed. He wasn't a Prefect anymore, so what the hell did he care if someone broke the rules? He did it all the time.

He thought back to Hermione Granger crying on the floor at his feet. Damn that girl for getting under his skin! She was the most irritating, infuriating, naïve person he'd ever met! And yet, here he was, pining away for her like a lovesick loser. He wasn't even sure how he'd let _that_ happen.

It had started as a game, simply because he'd wanted to drive her barmy. Doing so, he'd thought, would get his rocks off. So, he'd salaciously stared at her in class, in the hallways, at mealtimes in the Great Hall, specifically because he knew it made her uncomfortable. Whenever their gazes would connect she'd blush and quickly look away, and he'd silently congratulate himself on capturing her attention in a way he'd never done before.

For the first week and a half, it had been a rather successful plan.

By the middle of the second week, though, he'd started noticing Gryffindor's Princess back. All of the traits that had previously provoked him – the way she'd stare down her pert nose at him, her serious brown eyes, her unruly hair, even her snobbish walk – weren't quite so ugly anymore. They became amusing fancies, and then they were suddenly attractive quirks. He'd begun thinking about her when he was studying, unconsciously sought her out when walking the hallways, and dreamed about kissing her small, pink mouth.

By Sunday of the second week, Draco knew he was in trouble. He'd become infatuated. His plan had turned completely around on him.

Bloody, _buggering_ hell! How could he have been so stupid? Wanting Granger was a mistake of epic proportions that could land him in a heap of trouble – if not murdered outright by the Dark Lord, should his Master find out the truth.

Having made it back to the Slytherin common area, he swiftly crossed the room, completely ignoring those lounging in the big chairs and on the couches, and directly went up the stairs to his dorm room. Shutting the door behind him, he slipped off his shoes and threw himself down onto his bed, shutting all of the curtains around the canopy with a wave of his wand and an expertly cast _Muffliato_ spell for privacy. This was his long ago, pre-arranged signal to the others who shared his room that he didn't want to be disturbed. Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini all knew by now to adhere to the warning.

He looked up at the green satin canopy overhead and rubbed his tired eyes. Maybe he'd just turn in for the night. He'd had a grueling term so far between his studies and his Lord's tasks, and he wasn't solving any problems with his current state of mental exhaustion.

Infatuated as he was, though, his thoughts returned to _her_ again.

After admitting to himself that he'd found Granger attractive that second week in September, he'd begun covertly following her around the castle, hoping for a chance for… he didn't know what. To be alone with her, he guessed. He hadn't been clearly thinking about what he'd do if he'd actually succeeded. Then, he'd learned of her birthday through the grapevine, and he wasn't sure why the idea came to him – it just seemed to pop into his head. As soon as he heard that she was entering adulthood by turning seventeen, he realized that he wanted to give her something _really_ special to mark the occasion.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the red ribbon he'd gifted her that fateful night, exactly six and a half weeks earlier. He'd retrieved it after he'd found it lying on the desk in the room they'd shared in the dungeon; apparently, it had slipped out of her hair when he'd been fingering through her curls during their amazing snog session. He'd been carrying it around with him ever since.

He held it up, needing no spell to illuminate it, for it glowed with an innate crimson fire that was, frankly, quite brilliant and wholly mesmerizing. He recalled how it had reflected in her eyes when she'd examined it.

"_I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."_

The ribbon was one of his most cherished possessions, being his first – and the best – thing he'd ever stolen in his life. It was funny how he'd felt… _compelled_… to give it to her. He'd found an empty gift box in Pansy Parkinson's trunk one afternoon when she wasn't around, and swiped it, deciding to use that for wrapping. He'd then carried the present around for a couple of days inside his robes, waiting for the right moment. By luck, he'd seen Granger the night of her birthday heading down the dungeon stairs as he'd been coming back from dinner. He took the chance and followed her. Unfortunately, she'd stepped into the labyrinth side of the basement; the walls had changed, and he'd lost sight of her quickly. It took him more than a few minutes to return to where he'd last seen her, but she wasn't there any longer, and he feared he'd missed her for good. His good luck held, however, as eventually, he'd heard her yelling and located the door that led into the bizarrely magicked classroom where she'd been trapped.

He sniffed in amusement. Of course he'd lied to Granger about shagging Pansy in a closet down the hall just prior to their meeting up. There was no way he was going to tell her that he'd been following her around for days. And of course he'd lied to her, again, when he'd told her that he used the ribbon to get other girls to have sex with him. He'd never given it to anyone else. Did that mean he actually cared for the annoying nitwit? How had that happened? Just the thought made him cringe, and he felt like vomiting at his own stupidity.

If there was one thing Draco Malfoy never did, it was care for a girl. As far as he'd been concerned, girls existed only for his pleasure, not the other way around. He'd learned that lesson after his father had taken him to visit a "Gentlemen's Club" in Paris last Christmas – a rite of passage, the elder Malfoy had called it. She'd been a buxom blonde, willing and ready, and his first time had been quick and unemotional. He hadn't even known her name; didn't care to, honestly. Afterwards, his father pounded him on the back in congratulations, bought him his first Firewhiskey, and advised him sagely never to let a woman enslave him with her charms, physical or magical. "_Malfoys marry for status, wealth and blood purity," _Lucius had explained, _"Never for feeling."_ He'd then shockingly revealed that his own marriage to Draco's mother, Narcissa, had been arranged when they'd both reached adulthood, and that they hadn't even seen each other until the day of the wedding. It was then that Draco knew that he'd been bred for purpose, not conceived in affection. He reasoned that was probably why he was an only child as well. Apparently, his father respected his mother's position as the woman of the house and mother to his only child, but he felt no love for her.

The day after that, his mother had come to visit him. She'd been composed, but underneath that haughty façade, he knew she'd been nervous. _"If you want 'distractions' my son, then take them where you can get them," _she prescribed. _"But never forget who you are. Not just anyone will do to carry on our family's great name. Take precautions."_ She'd then passed her son a small, red spell book, with a page marked for him to open to. The page contained an Anti-Conception spell, and he'd memorized it that same day.

Consequently, Draco took his father's and mother's advice to heart, and he'd since behaved with cold indifference in his handling of his private liaisons. By this last summer, he'd already had it off with several daughters of Ministry officials, all of the girls in his grade in Slytherin House, Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw, and Megan Jones from Hufflepuff. He'd taken the required precautions, of course, but there had never been soft words exchanged during the act with any of them, and definitely no promises afterwards. Draco didn't need, nor want, entanglements. It was just sex.

That is, until he'd spent a few hours locked in a room alone with Hermione Granger.

He snarled, shoving the ribbon back in his pocket. There was _no fucking way_ he was going to let this obsession for Hermione Granger continue. First, the girl was interested in that patsy, Weasley. Second, she was Potter's best friend. And third, she was a goody-goody, know-it-all, dirty Mudblood.

Besides, he had more important things to take care of this year.

He cringed again when he considered what a mess he'd made of the cursed necklace a few weeks back. The Bell girl had almost died. He'd been responsible by directing Madam Rosmerta to place the Imperius Curse on her. That Katie was right now still in the Hospital in a coma gnawed at his gut. He'd never hurt anyone like that before, especially a woman. And then there was the slow pace of the repair to the Vanishing Cabinet. He'd already received a message from the Dark Lord about His displeasure that things were taking so long. Draco was beginning to become nervous. He'd asked Snape to let Lord Voldemort know that things were on schedule, hoping for a reprieve. He hadn't revealed his plans to Snape directly, of course, but the implication was clear: he, Draco, was chosen to do this task for the Dark Lord, and he would see it done - not Snape.

He had another plan to get at Dumbledore, of course. It was just going to take the right moment to put it into action. That moment wouldn't come until they neared the Christmas holiday, so he had time. Time enough to get over these feelings he had for Hermione Granger. He'd just have to figure out a way to get her into bed, and then he'd be over her. Because Draco never thought of a girl again once he'd had sex with her.

He spent the night considering a new plan, and finally, around midnight, he'd come up with something so devious and clever that he thought it just might work. He undressed, gingerly laid the ribbon under his pillow, as usual, and went to sleep, smirking.

**X~~~~~X**

The next morning, Draco awoke feeling quite randy. His dreams had been filled with memories of Gryffindor's Princess – her smile, her laugh, her luscious lips, the way her hips swayed as she walked, and how she'd so unreservedly responded to his touch that one night back in September. Gripping his ready and willing cock in his left hand, and rolling his sac with his right, he masturbated quickly to the erotic memories of her naked body and the kisses they'd shared. He came as he recalled the mewling cries she'd made during her own orgasm and how she'd tightened up around him in that moment, holding him close to her breast. With a soul-deep groan and a flash of red behind his eyelids, powerful spurts of semen erupted from his shaft to coat his naked belly.

Afterwards, he lay in a state of euphoria for long minutes, relishing the slow come-down from his climax, his thoughts again stirring to the girl who'd consumed his fantasies of late. "Hermione," he sighed, frustrated, torn by his feelings for her. He wasn't supposed to consider her sexually. In fact, he wasn't supposed to consider her in _any manner_ other than dead at the end of his wand.

His chest ached at that thought and he rubbed at it, not liking the idea of causing her any harm, much less ending her life.

_"What happened, Hermione? Tell me."_

She'd looked so small and lost, lying slumped against the wall last night...

No, she was his enemy - she'd always been, by providence of birth! It couldn't be any other way between them. She was his adversary now as much as Potter, and one day, when the war was in full swing he'd have to kill her.

He shut his eyes and ground his teeth to the idea that he'd have to cast an _Avada_ her way. Would he really be able to do such a thing?

Red flashed behind his eyelids.

_"Happy Birthday, Granger."_

_"I knew it would be like this with you."_

_"Maybe I don't need you just for sex."_

Memories flowed through his head, shredding his resolve. He wouldn't be able to do it; he knew that now. She'd weakened him with her swotty mannerisms and her beautiful, sincere eyes and the way she'd kissed him liked he was her whole world…

What the fuck did it matter anyway? She didn't remember any of that night they'd been locked up together. Besides, she was just another girl in a line of them. He'd had his fun with Granger, and sure, he'd like more, but he couldn't risk such a dangerous thing being fully ensconced in the Dark Lord's service now. He should just chalk the entire infatuation up to insanity and let it go.

But he couldn't. Something deep inside snarled in denial at the mere thought of never touching her again. He _needed_ to. The desire was growing daily to possess her, to fuck her, to lov-

The familiar squirming under his left forearm started up again. His eyes roamed to the hated Dark Mark that marred the spot. The flesh under it wriggled, as if something was trying to push its way out. He'd stopped panicking every time he saw it do that now, having grown accustomed to the movement since the term began, but he still didn't understand why it happened. He wanted to ask someone, but who could he turn to? His father was in Azkaban and his mail was monitored. His mother had never taken the Mark, and neither had any of his friends. There was only Snape, but he didn't feel he could approach the man with such a private thing, as he was worried he'd report back to Voldemort that something was amiss. What if the writhing motion was some indication that he wasn't fully committed to the Dark Lord's tasks? He'd be killed, for sure, if his loyalty came into question.

But that didn't mean he wasn't affected by such a grotesque reminder of what he'd taken on. In truth, it made him nauseated to know that he'd been marked by such evil and that he'd given his will up to it without much coercion. If he could turn back time, he'd never have let his arrogance and pride dictate his actions; he'd have never offered his services to his new Master.

Looking away, he ignored it, knowing it would settle down in a bit. It always did.

Returning to the quandary at hand, he chastised himself. All of this self-doubt was bullshite nonsense. His course was laid, for better or worse, and he wouldn't be allowed to change his mind. The solution of what to do about Hermione Granger, therefore, was simple: he needed to wash her from his system once and for all. He'd made a plan last night, and it was solid, and he was sticking to it. Shagging the bushy-haired bint into the mattress would get her good and gone from his head so he could concentrate on what needed to be done.

That decided, he cleaned up and headed off to the showers to get ready to begin putting his scheme into action.

**X~~~X**

Forty minutes later, at the breakfast hall, Draco watched a sleepy Granger drag herself and her overstuffed satchel – was that new and designer? - to her table. Scarhead was walking beside her. Irked at seeing the two of them sharing companionable whispers, huddling intimately close together, he internally snarled. Fickle woman! Why, just last night she…

He cut off that rant before it distracted him from his main goal. _Focus,_ he barked the reminder in his head. _Observe. Wait for the right moment._

To his further annoyance, his intended target sat with her back to him today, so he was instead forced to look at Potter's ugly face, as the guy sat across the table from her.

Well, shite, this was not going at all according to plan! He'd have to take steps.

He turned to his Slytherin friends and said something biting about Potter's ridiculously rangy hair. Those up and down the table who heard all laughed, and it was loud enough a clamor to catch the attention of both Potter and Granger, who turned in her seat to look at him. He merely looked back at her and wiggled his eyebrows at her, smirking. From the way her cheeks rouged and her eyes hardened, he knew he'd gotten her goat. She flipped back around in her seat, back ramrod straight and murmured something to Potter. They then proceeded to ignore Draco for the rest of breakfast.

Score one, Draco.

After breakfast, he made an excuse to his mates about needing to find Snape and ducked out to follow Granger instead. With a wave to Potter, she headed off to the library, as he'd hoped, instead of accompanying him and Weasley to their common room. Draco stealthily followed, careful of his footfalls giving him away. In the library, Granger took her usual seat in the far left corner, lugging her heavy satchel onto the small, single desk. It was a secluded spot, with natural light falling onto the small desk from a high-arched window above, out of the line of sight of the rest of the room. The only way they'd be seen was if someone came down the row opposite or turned the corner on them. It was a good spot for an ambush.

He sauntered over to her and stood in front of her desk, arms crossed, leaning against the far wall. She seemed surprised, then annoyed to see him. She put the book back up to her nose, blocking him from sight. He chuckled. She sighed. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I've been thinking, Granger - you owe me one," he beamed.

She put her book down and stared up at him with a budding fiery anger that made him go instantly erect in his trousers. "Owe you? For helping me out last night, you mean?"

He nodded, grinning. "I saved your life, after all." Right, so it was a bit of an exaggeration, but if he twisted it just so…

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Overly-dramatic, much?"

He artlessly examined his nails for a moment. "Not really. The temperature last night was below freezing, and there was an Arctic wind to back it up. You'd have turned into a red and gold popsicle in minutes without me to keep you warm and you know it. Ergo, you owe me. You're in the Slug Club, right?"

She looked positively wary now. "Yes, why?"

He turned the full weight of his gaze upon her. "There's rumor of a Christmas party that he's throwing next month." He paused, making her wait for it. It didn't take long.

She leaned her head forward expectantly. "And?" she finally asked, annoyed with his non-responsiveness.

With a satisfied smirk, he let the bomb drop. "I expect you to invite me as your date."

Her jaw literally fell open with incredulity. "You _what?_" she shouted, swiftly standing, pressing her palms flat on the desk before her, righteous indignation flaming to life in her features. From down the row, there was a shushing noise from another student. Granger's face turned beet-red and she promptly sat down. "You're mental! Forget it, Malfoy," she hissed. "No way this side of Hell!"

He'd expected such a reply. He nonchalantly shrugged. "Shame, that. I so didn't want to have to tell everyone in the school about your little secret crush on the Weaslebee… and everything that entailed, of course."

"You wouldn't dare," she challenged, the threat of a promised hex or two in her voice. She was actually trembling in anger now, and her dark amber eyes cast hateful daggers at him.

He simply smiled wider, eyes narrowing, as if to say, _"try me."_

There was no doubt that Draco was treading into shark-infested waters now, as he had just upped the ante in this game between them by throwing down blood. The one, big drawback to his grand plan had been whether Granger remembered anything about those ill-fated few days back in September. She still claimed not to. If that held true, that meant that she didn't have anything on him regarding what they had done, nor the Dark Mark he bore, and he could safely continue to blackmail her. If that weren't true, however, he'd be up the duff. He was betting that she still had amnesia, however, by the mere fact that she hadn't already confronted him on almost taking her cherry, much less his status as an official Death Eater. Fate had been on his side up to this point; he was praying that it would hold out for a bit longer.

Granger pursed her lips together in fury, but said nothing. When her features shifted into pleading, he knew he had her. His secrets were safe, for now, and he was going to make her do what he wanted. "Right then," he cleared his throat. "It's settled. I'm guessing dress robes are appropriate attire for the occasion, yes?"

She paused, looking down at her hands in her lap. Her cheeks were tinged a pretty crimson to match her uniform tie. "Please don't do this to me, Malfoy," she beseeched.

She sounded so forlorn, that he almost gave it all up right there. He didn't want to hurt her, did he? He just wanted to get her out of his system once and for all, and this was the only way for him to do so. He'd been patient for months already - even if she didn't remember that fact. And he knew she was _fecking _attracted to him. At one point, she'd even wanted him as badly as he'd wanted her.

"_I've given you a lot of my firsts tonight. I'm not ready to give up my virginity."_

The 'to you, yet' had been unspoken, but he'd gotten the gist. There'd been no denying her intentions that night; she'd told him that, one day, she'd give him her virginity. It was practically a promise! So what if "one day" came a month from now? That was still plenty of time for her to prepare for the big moment. Bloody hell, she'd made him wait longer than that for her. "It's a deal, Granger," he teased. "No backing out, or else."

Quickly collecting her books and throwing them into her bag, she stood up and made ready to leave. Before she turned away to go, she tossed him a most malevolent look. "I hate you," she seethed.

Moving with haste, wanting to catch her before she slipped away, he stepped towards her, backing her into the bookshelf. Both of his hands shot out to either side to trap her between, and he leaned his face towards hers, giving her his best seductive leer. "I happen to know for a fact that you don't," he whispered, assuring his hot breath stroked across her cheek.

Taken aback by his boldness, Hermione shrunk as far away from him as she could. He tipped closer, never breaking eye contact, pretending to swoop in for the kiss, and waiting for her to push him away. He'd planned on laughing and taunting her at that point, but she surprised him when she didn't make a move to stop him. Instead, her tongue quickly darted out to wet her mouth in anticipation and her air exhaled in a rush from her quivering mouth.

The realization that she was curious to experience his kiss spurred him on. A wild, foolish hope flared to life in his chest.

His lips covered hers, gifting a gentle, chaste caress. Their eyes were both wide open, staring into the heart of the other as he touched down, and lingered a few, breathless seconds. Pulling back a bit, he watched her, measured her reaction. Her eyes were flared with a blooming heat, her cheeks stained, her mouth slightly parted. Her whole body trembled against his. She hadn't seemed to hate what they'd done; in fact, her whole demeanor said she wanted more. He happily obliged.

Swiftly pressing his advantage, he dropped back over her and began kissing with all of the pent-up longing that had tortured him since pretty much the start of term. Slytherin's soul, her mouth was so soft! He'd never captured such sweet skin, never tasted such purity. It was her innocence – it drew him in, made him crave until his skin burned from the need and he couldn't decide if he wanted to ruin all that beauty or fall to his knees and worship it.

_More, need more._

Red fire roared through his veins and under his tightly shut eyelids as he thrust his tongue into the wet depths of her mouth and sipped, tasted, _drowned_ in her unique flavor. Her breath was scented like the green apples she'd been eating at lunch. The tang made his gut tighten and his penis achingly hard. Weeping pre-come slicked over his heated, throbbing length, dampening his cotton pants clean through. Gripping her hips, he thrust a thigh between her legs and pressed upwards against her pelvis, rhythmically rubbing up and down.

It was September all over again, and he couldn't keep his hands or lips or tongue in check. He'd waited _so long_ for this feeling to return. He'd been close several times, but had been continually thwarted by her stubbornness or bad timing, or both. He quietly moaned and pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, wanting to tell her the things rioting in his head and heart.

"Hermione… princess…"

Hands violently shoved him away, and he fell back several steps. Surprised, he met her dark, tear-filled eyes and saw that she wasn't consumed by lust, but was instead confused and angry. It occurred to him only then that she hadn't moved at all during their exchange, not even to kiss him back; she'd remained passive and still. _He'd_ been the only one affected by the moment.

Before he could open his mouth and say something that would undoubtedly bite, Granger reached around him, grabbed her satchel and rushed out of the library, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she made fast her escape. The action caused something in his heart to constrict at the same time as his temper to explode. Something dark within him growled, urged him to reach out and stop her, to force her to the floor and prove she wanted him. Instead, he watched her retreat with clenched fists at his sides, feeling both torn up and infuriated by her rejection.

This hadn't gone at all as he'd planned, and now she had some serious fodder on him; she could say he tried to blackmail and force himself on her if she really wanted to hurt his reputation and get him into trouble with Dumbledore. He'd been stupid and careless, and he might have just also buggered up any chance he had of getting her into his bed, too.

Fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_

Adjusting his taut length to a more comfortable position, he hurried out of the Library and down to the nearest men's loo. Luckily, it was abandoned, and he hastened into a stall, locking it behind. Unbuttoning and unzipping, he took his cock in his hand, shut his eyes tight, and wanked hard to the recollection of Granger's kiss. _So soft, so sweet, so lush and wet. _He licked his lips – and tasted green apples. That tipped him over the edge. With a muffled shout, biting his bottom lip until it bled, he released his seed all over his hand and into the clear water of the porcelain bowl below. It took several more jerks for him to find his full, satisfying end, and then he slumped against the wooden door, struggling to regain his breath and sanity.

Stroking the ever-present red ribbon in the pocket of his trousers as he cleaned up and redressed, seeking its calming influence, he came to the determination that this lunacy couldn't go on. Something had to give soon. He could feel he was on the edge. This need he had for Gryffindor's perfect Princess was driving him mad. In less than two months, he had become dangerously obsessed with Hermione Granger, and it was jeopardizing everything. It might even get him killed!

Gods, if only he could let her go! But the memory of her touching him with so much honest, beautiful passion that one night they'd shared in September haunted him, wouldn't let him find his peace.

_"Kiss me. Hold me."_

Oh, Christ, he was so jacked to shite!

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER ELEVEN:**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: "Inconsolable" by Backstreet Boys **


	12. Ch 12: Crying Game

**Chapter Twelve: Crying Game**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**November 3, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

Hermione rushed back to the Gryffindor Tower, tears streaming from her eyes. How could Malfoy have kissed her? How could he have taken such advantage and rubbed up against her _like that_? Worse, how could she have liked it? She scrubbed at her mouth again, as if trying to erase the feel of his lips on hers, and started crying. The guilt and shame were overwhelming. She should have shoved him away sooner, should have ducked under his arm and run before he'd leaned towards her, should have slapped him for daring to cross boundaries. Instead, all she'd been able to do at that moment was to remember how kind he'd been to her that night on the bridge, in the cold.

"_You're freezing to death."_

"_Do you want to end up in the Hospital Wing again?"_

As he'd leaned into her for the kiss, the alluring smell of his unique cologne – bergamot and amber – had once more assailed her nostrils, causing her stomach to somersault. When she'd looked into his slate grey eyes, she'd recalled the warmth from being wrapped in his coat, his heart beating soothingly under her ear, the rhythmic inhalations and exhalations against her cheek, the strength of his arms around her, and the solid feel of his hip bones under her fingertips.

"_What happened, Hermione? Tell me."_

_"Hermione… princess…"_

She'd felt like a trapped animal in the Library on the one hand, but knew she'd been a willing participant on the other. She'd let him kiss her, intimately touch her, and she'd enjoyed every bit of it. Right then and there, she hated herself more than she did Slytherin's Prince, because he'd made her feel things she didn't have a right or a want to feel for him – compassion, promise, and undeniable attraction.

But this was _Malfoy_ she was talking about, and she knew he'd only been playing her. It was quite impossible that he would feel anything at all for her aside from the lustful anticipation of crushing her under his heel someday. Stupid and careless – that's what she'd been today, and now he had even more ammo to manipulate her with. If any of her friends found out, they'd either be very cross with her or consider her a House traitor and cut her dead.

If only there was a way to Obliviate the rotten Ferret of the incident without leaving a trace! But no, utilizing mind magic upon another person was absolutely forbidden without permission of an authority figure – a professor or Ministry official - while you were still a student in school, regardless of age. If she attempted to fiddle with Draco's memories and was caught, she could be expelled.

As she neared the portrait of The Fat Lady, Hermione scrubbed her cheeks with the hem of her sleeve and hastily forced a false calm.

"Password?" the rotund woman giggled.

"Apple tart," Hermione replied, wincing at that word. Malfoy had called her a tart on Halloween night, in response to her costume, the git. She'd rather not remember that night, either, thank you very much.

The grand picture swung open and she entered her common room. Ginny was on the couch before the fire, reading her _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _textbook intently, but took one look at Hermione and jumped up, alarmed and concerned. "What happened? What did my idiot brother do this time?"

That was so like Ginny, to automatically assume that Hermione had been hurt _again_ by her thoughtless older brother. Hermione shook her head. "It was nothing. I was carrying too heavy a load and tripped going up the stairs. I skinned my shin."

Ginny, who had apparently become something of an expert on people's expressions over the past year since she'd begun to 'explore' the idea of dating others to get over her issues of shyness, raised an eyebrow in disbelief. In a blink, she was yanked over to the couch and forced to sit for a private chat. "Want to try shocking me with the truth now?" her friend challenged.

Hermione grimaced. How much could she tell? She desperately needed a sympathetic female confidante right then, but she was cautious. She'd trusted Malfoy the other night with her deepest secrets, and look where it had gotten her! He was blackmailing her now with the information that she'd so naïvely imparted. Was Gin the right person to tell such troubling secrets to, especially since she was Ron's sister? She may have been Hermione's best girl friend, but she knew that Ginny had a wicked temper, and was known to shoot her mouth off when she was angry, without considering the ramifications. Besides, the witch hated Malfoy. How could Hermione explain to her that she'd just let the enemy kiss her?

She picked at the lint on her skirt, deciding to bend the problem from another angle, for the time being. "It's really no big deal, Gin. I'm just under enormous pressure right now. School, prefect duties, Ron and Lavender..."

The redhead nodded in understanding, accepting the half-truth without further question. "I'm really sorry about that," she apologized for the umpteenth time. "My brother's a real arse."

A snicker escaped Hermione's lips. "Yes, he is." She took a hold of Ginny's hand in thanks. "You really don't have to worry. I'll be fine. Just need to keep adjusting, that's all."

Ginny tentatively smiled, and just like that, the interrogation was over, much to Hermione's relief. She and her best friend spent the remainder of the afternoon sitting on the couch, laughing and talking about the latest "love-love" rumors going around school: Hufflepuff's Emma Dobbs' passing a rather naughty note to the Italian heartthrob, Blaise Zabini, and him getting caught with it by Professor Burbage in Muggle Studies class; their mutual friend, Seamus Finnegan trying to get the attention of Su Li and failing miserably, as she had already set her eyes on her housemate, Eddie Carmichael; Denis Harper getting into a scrap with Kevin Entwhistle out on the grounds over the right to be Sally-Anne Perks' boyfriend (Denis won, but both were busted by Filch for breaking curfew and fighting). And so on.

As afternoon faded into evening, and the six o'clock bell tolled, the two witches made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner. Hermione had decided to forget all about what had happened in the Library between her and Malfoy. She hadn't kissed him back, after all, so it hadn't been that big a deal. He was just instigating a kick-off between them, as usual, so she made up her mind that she simply wouldn't let the Ferret get to her.

Harry joined her and Ginny when he came in behind them. They sat mid-way down the Gryffindor table, as usual, and politely entered into conversation with Harry about his day. All seemed swell, until Ron and Lavender came into the room, and grabbed seats a little further down on her side of the bench. They had their arms about each other, and Lav practically draped herself across 'Won-Won's' lap when they sat. The girl then proceeded to feed him dinner in a manner Hermione might have considered "tart-ish," if she didn't so hate the word. She watched them, painfully noting how Ron's hand rested on his new girlfriend's thigh so casually, stroking back and forth. The tears flooded her vision, and she hastily turned away…

…only to end up impaled on Draco Malfoy's gaze across the room.

Convulsively swallowing at the anger stamped across his features, she noted those dark, steely eyes purposefully slide from her to Ron and Lavender, and then back to her. The sneering, contemptuous mask was back in place, boring into her brain, shaking her up.

A roaring began in her ears. Was that jealousy she'd just seen in his features? Surely not!

"I'm… n-not so hungry anymore," she stammered, and hastily stood on shaky legs, wanting - no, _needing_ - to flee from the flickering hurt and the retaliatory scorn contained in the pair of sharp, observant eyes that burned her inside and out from clear across the room.

Ginny's hand snaked out quicker than could be seen and grabbed her forearm, preventing her escape. There was a look of suspicion on her friend's face as she eyed Hermione, and then as she turned her head towards the Slytherin table to assess the object of her agitation. Her gaze moved back to Hermione's, questioning.

Oh, no! Gin had seen the interplay between her and Malfoy!

Hermione felt her cheeks flood with shame. Disentangling her arm from the grip that held her back, without another word, she hurriedly walked out of the room, running only once she'd gotten to the bottom of the Grand Staircase and out of sight of the Great Hall. _I've done nothing wrong. I will not feel guilty! _Repeating the mantra over and over until she reached her dorm room helped to soothe her tattered nerves.

Throwing her body down on her bed, and smashing her face into her pillow, she negligently bespelled the crimson-colored, velvet brocade privacy curtains to close and lay in the darkened shelter, taking comfort from the temporary sanctuary she had erected against the outside world. Closing her eyes and rolling her wand between her fingers, taking significant comfort from her magic, she eased her anxiety with slow, deep breaths, once more getting her emotions back under control.

Why did Slytherin's Prince affect her, more so this year than ever before? How had he, in such a short time – since Harry had revealed that she'd been locked in a room in the dungeon with the blond wizard back in September - managed to get under her skin, burrowing deep into her subconscious? For Merlin's sake, she'd been dreaming of him practically every night for the past month and a half – and the fantasies had only gotten more intensely sexual since Halloween night!

It was the obsessive watch he kept over her – had to be. During the day, whenever Draco was nearby, Hermione was continually aware of his ever-lingering stare upon her person. She perceived this incessant regard for her in a variety of ways: as a tingling across the back of her neck, or as a shiver of a breeze passing her cheek, and even a few times as the flaring of a red, dancing aura out of the corner of her eye, originating from _his_ general direction.

Such distractions made it impossible to entirely ignore the git, of course - although she'd given it a valiant effort. As a result, more than once, she actually worked up the courage to meet the slippery snake's enigmatic, mercurial gaze head-on, wondering what he wanted from her and why his secret spying felt more like intimate communication – a beckoning, of sorts - rather than harassment. Yet, in those times, regardless of her plucky Gryffindor's heart, she always blinked and turned away first, unable to voice her annoyance, uncomfortable with the dark, shadowy familiarity that reflected in his irises, and the way such furtive glances teased from her a powerful desire to answer his unspoken summons.

Gah! This was clearly the same game he'd been playing with her at the start of term, only he'd upped the ante over the past two months. None of this, however, was her fault – including what had happened this afternoon. She'd done her best not to encourage Malfoy's odd passive-aggressive behavior from the start, focusing her energies on more important pursuits, like her studies…

…but then she'd gone to the Astronomy Tower on Samhain for some air, and two days later, she'd run out into the arctic cold in the dead of night to cry about lost opportunities with Ron, and this afternoon, she'd passively let Draco kiss her, allowing her curiosity its a manner of speaking, all three times she'd ended up in Ferret Boy's arms, hadn't she?

Seriously considering that, she came to a startling revelation: today's incident in the Library was just another milestone met in the chain of inevitability that both she and Draco had habitually, carelessly been nurturing for the last two months, wasn't it? And _that_ was truly the most disturbing part of all. Kissing your greatest enemy had to rank right up there with some of the greatest follies a person could make in their lifetime, but the fact that kissing Malfoy had felt almost, well, _fated_ to have happened - soul-deep _right_ - is what disturbed her the most. She didn't want to like him. There was nothing there _to_ like. He was a spoiled, pampered, rotten bigot...

…who kissed like original sin.

_"__Hermione…"_

That half-pained, half-pleading voice was familiar beyond the events of this afternoon. She _knew_ she'd heard Malfoy say her name like that before. Flipping onto her back, she rubbed a hand over her forehead, struggling to remember how, but that gray wall of solid fog forcibly blocked her attempts to penetrate and investigate further. She wanted to scream her frustration to the clouds.

Fine, she couldn't access the memories of those lost days in September, so she'd just have to accept her intuition: if it were, in fact, the case that she and Malfoy had done a bit of snogging the night of her birthday (although, for the life of her, she couldn't understand why such a thing might have happened), it made perfect sense that the blond would be angry that she was looking at Ron. She'd already vomited a confession of her feelings for her ginger crush all over Draco, but to add to that the possibility of them having kissed more than just the one time today, and she was beginning to understand the angry sneer he'd hit her with at dinner.

Godric, he must actually like her!

_Wait, back the horse up! _she thought_. _Why would Draco Malfoy kiss her at all – back in September or today? Over the last six years, he'd only ever spurned and derided her. So, what had changed his attitude so suddenly this term? And for all that was holy, why would _she_ apparently, repeatedly kiss him back? It didn't make any sense!

"Hermione," it was Ginny on the other side of her curtain. "May I come in?"

She sighed, preparing for the mental battle ahead. There would be no avoiding Gin's questions this time. "Sure."

Her too-observant friend hesitantly pulled aside the curtains and sat at the end of the bed. Hermione pushed into a seated position and both women sat cross-legged across from each other to fit. With another wave of her wand, she closed the curtains again and bespelled the area with _Muffliato_, to keep her nosey roommates from listening in_. _

Gin's weighty, earthen gaze bored into her, but strangely, her friend didn't waste air and initiate conversation, obviously waiting for Hermione to go first.

"I believe… that is to say… it's perhaps possible that… I think Malfoy might have kissed me that night back in September, when we were locked in the dungeon together," she stammered, cheeks flaming to life once more.

Her friend's eyes flared with astonishment and uncertainty. Her mouth unhinged, opening and shutting a few times like a fish out of water as she tried to think up something intelligent to say in response.

"Uh, not to sound thick," the girl began, "but… er, 'Mione, wouldn't you have noticed if someone like _him_ had stuck his tongue down your throat and swapped spit with you?"

Although that was an utterly crude way to phrase such a delicate situation, Hermione got the gist. She shook her head, her hand moving to her temple. "No, that's just it! I can't recall any details from that night, but I think that if it had happened, it might have been then. I'm not sure."

Her companion took a sharp, full breath through her nose, and Hermione cringed. _This is it. She's going to go off on a tirade, and berate me for being such a complete fool! What was I thinking telling her something so scandalous and…_

"Did you like it?"

Hermione physically jerked back. "Wh-what?"

"Did. You. Like. It?" the redheaded witch asked with a challenging smirk.

Disgusted at the thought, Hermione shook her head. "How could I possibly know something as bizarre as that, as I don't actually have any memory of the event taking place, just a very strong suspicion that it did?"

Gin seemed to carefully choose her next words. "His eyes at dinner tonight, they say it _did _happen, and he clearly thought enough of the incident to be jealous of your interest in my brother."

"Well," Hermione stalled, her mouth going dry. "That's because it did happen… again… if it happened the first time, that is to say."

Her friend huffed and shook her head. "You're confusing me."

"I'm confusing myself," Hermione sighed, gripping the sides of her head and wanting to scream at the lunacy of the situation. "All right, from the top. Back in September, the night of my birthday, I know _something_ happened between Malfoy and me when we'd been trapped in that room together. I have no idea exactly what, however, although I suspect something physical. Why I would have even let the serpent touch me, I have no idea, but when I was with Malfoy on Halloween night, up in the Astronomy Tower-"

"You were alone with him in the Astronomy Tower?" Ginny blurted, scandalized. Everyone knew the A.T. was the best place to go to have sex, as Filch rarely made the long haul up the dozens of stairs to the top, his advanced age preventing such a climb, and the ghosts tended to avoid the Towers of the castle, in general, although no one knew why.

Hermione tsk'd. "Not on purpose. I was going up for a breath of fresh air and to think, and there he was, brooding at the railing. We got to fighting-" Her friend nodded, as _that_ was expected. She went on to recall their heated encounter for Gin, explaining Malfoy's blatant disbelief in her amnesia, and her emphatic rebuttal to his ridicule. "He believed me, I think, after that. I told him that I wished I did know what had happened that night, though, so I could make him pay for whatever he had done to make me so sick. That's when he got… strange."

"Strange, how?" her friend cautiously asked.

"He… well, he became sad and withdrawn. The fight just… ended, like that. He promised that he hadn't physically hurt me when we'd been shut away that one time, but I knew he was holding back some of the truth." Hermione ran the tips of her fingers over her bottom lip. 'I'll be paying for that night the rest of my life anyway.' That was the last thing he'd said to me before I ran back down the stairs."

Instead of being repulsed, as she had expected, Gin seemed engrossed in the tale. "What do you suppose he meant by that?"

"I'm not sure!" Hermione exclaimed, consternation burning in her chest. She rubbed at the area, trying to erase the feeling. "My impression was that he'd done _something_ to me - some sort of cruel game to trick me into being more intimate with him in some fashion, or maybe he even used a dark spell. But I don't have any proof either way."

"So you think he might have kissed you then, and that's what caused you to panic, hyperventilate and faint?" Ginny pressed, leaning her elbows on her knees.

Hermione nodded. "Or, like I said, he might have used a spell on me. I'm not sure. I think it's a very real possibility that he _did_ kiss me, though, especially given what's happened between us recently – like earlier today."

Her friend smirked in triumph. "I knew there was more to it than a scraped knee!"

"Sorry about that," she apologized, cringing, feeling quite ill at the thought of having lied to one of her best friends. "I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk about it at that time. It was still too fresh."

Ginny waved her on. "So, what happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath and launched into the second part of the story. "Well, after the night of the Quidditch match, when Lavender and Ron-" She couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud; it was still too painful. "I was really upset, and I ran outside to the covered bridge to think, but I'd forgotten my coat."

"It's the first of winter!" Gin censured. "You could have frozen to death!"

She nodded. "And I would have, if not for Malfoy."

Her best friend gasped. "Merlin's booties, what did he do?"

"Nothing," Hermione assured her. "Well, nothing bad, anyway. He found me shivering in the cold alone, crying like a first year, and he shared his coat with me to warm up."

Ginny sat back, shocked. "Malfoy did something nice for you? _Get bent!_"

Hermione nodded. "I was as astonished as you. He just reached out and tucked me into his long coat with him. After a few minutes, I pushed away, but it was so cold! I could hardly have made it back to the castle on my own. Can you believe that he actually took his coat off and put it around my shoulders? He dragged me back inside so neither of us would freeze."

"That's… kind-of… well, _romantic_," her friend commented, amazed.

"But, he was so angry when he took the coat back," Hermione continued, frowning. "I wasn't sure if he was going to strike me or not. We got into another fight. I-I just lost it and started crying. I was _so_ hurt by Ron, and Malfoy had gone from being nice to me to yelling at me – it just threw me off." Ginny patted her knee in comfort. Hermione gave her a thankful smile. "The next thing I knew, Malfoy was asking me what happened to get me so upset. I don't know what I was thinking. I just… confessed the whole kilt and bottel to him, right there."

Gin's eyes grew as big as saucers. _"_How much did you spill?_"_

Hermione winced with embarrassment. "I told him all about my feelings for Ron and everything I've done for the last three years to get his attention. I told him how hurt I was by how thoughtless and insensitive your brother was. I was so bitter about the whole Lavender thing that I didn't think to watch my tongue. I never should have trusted him."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," her companion muttered, a hand over her eyes, "Right, so what happened next?"

Pausing to consider how much to reveal, Hermione bit her bottom lip. "I-I'm not really sure. Malfoy seemed depressed again, like he had on Halloween night. At least, initially he acted that way, but quick as a wand flick, he was back to being his usual prat self. He told me to forget about 'the git,' your brother. He even told me that I could do better than Ron. At first, I was angry. But then... it was the strangest thing... I realized after talking to him, that I actually felt better. A bit less conflicted about the Ron-Lavender situation anyway."

"And today?" Ginny prompted, rubbing her fingers over her forehead.

"Today, he went back to being an unbelievable arse," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes. "He started pecking at Harry and me in the Dining Hall first thing this morning. Later, when I went to the Library, he just showed up in front of where I was studying. He-" She paused, unsure how to get past the lump in her throat. She was terrified of telling Ginny the rest, afraid of being judged.

"What?" the ginger-haired witch prodded, dropping her hand and leaning forward again. "What did the prat do?"

Hermione swallowed back her fear and grabbed hold of her courage. "He threatened to tell everyone about my confession – you know, about Ron - if I didn't take him to Slughorn's Christmas party in December as my date."

Ginny was instantly incensed on her behalf. "He _blackmailed_ you? Pond scum!"

"That's not the worst of it," she confirmed. "He cornered me and… kissed me. As in, open-mouthed with tongue. And he… Godric, he rubbed against me… in a very sexual manner!" She covered her eyes, humiliated. "I didn't kiss back, I swear!" she hurriedly clarified, peeking through her fingers. "I was just too shocked to move. I mean, _Malfoy_ was kissing me!"

Ginny's hand dropped from her astonished mouth and she let out a relieved breath. "Oh, then it's not your fault. He forced himself on you."

Hermione closed her eyes in shame, knowing the truth. "I guess."

"So, that's what you meant when you said Malfoy kind-of kissed you and kind-of didn't," her friend reasoned. "It makes perfect sense now."

She sighed, relieved that Gin had forgiven her this much. She'd thought the girl would go ballistic upon hearing that she had snogged someone other than her brother, much less Draco, the Prince of Gitsville.

"He must have thought more of the kiss than you, though," her secret-keeper commented. "'Cause he was positively unhinged when he watched you watching Ron tonight."

So, she hadn't imagined his jealousy after all! That came as something of a relief. For a while there, she'd thought she might be going looney with imaginings. Still, she wasn't comfortable with the idea of Draco being jealous of her feelings for Ron. "L-like I said, I think Malfoy was just being… well, _Malfoy_," she stammered. "I think he gets his kicks by up-ending me."

Ginny was too perceptive to let it pass, however. "I don't think so," she argued. "In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say he likes you."

Heart skipping madly about in secondary confirmation of her earlier supposition, Hermione scoffed, still in disbelief that such a thing could be true. "Mudblood-hater, Draco Malfoy? He looks at me no different from the dirt on the bottom of his shoes."

Her friend didn't agree. "Then why did he kiss you today?"

A small titter escaped her lips. "Obviously to make me mad. He's forever doing unpredictable things to get at me."

Ginny smirked. "And don't you find that in the least bit odd? He's _always_ trying to get your attention. Boys only do that when they want to get into a girl's knickers."

Hermione laughed that silliness off with a negligent wave. The idea was simply preposterous. "Sure, sure. And what do you know of it?"

Her friend's expression grew very solemn and her tone, candid. "I know boys."

All joking was instantly set aside as Hermione evaluated her best girl friend. Sitting across from her, leaning back on the palms of her hands, Gin seemed so very grown up all of the sudden. In her eyes, there was a guileless wisdom that bespoke of personal experience on the subject matter. Just how far _had_ her best friend gone sexually, she suddenly wondered? Her BFF _did_ seem rather open and casual about snogging since Hermione had encouraged her to date. Had she gone further than that, though?

As she evaluated the redheaded witch across the two feet between them, Hermione suddenly felt the gap grow much wider. She blushed at her ignorance and looked away.

"What am I going to do?" she asked, turning the conversation back on topic. "He expects me to take him as my date to the party. If I don't, he'll tell everyone about my unrequited feelings for Ron. So far, only you and Harry have known how desperate I've been to land him. I don't want the whole school knowing how pathetic and fruitless my attempts have been - _especially_ not Ron, and not now. I'd simply die of embarrassment having everyone know I'd been tossed over for Lavender Brown."

Ginny considered the problem. She opened her mouth, thought twice about what she was going to say, but then decided to go ahead anyway. "You should go with Malfoy on the date."

"WHAT?" Hermione couldn't have been more surprised than if she'd been told that Dumbledore was really a closet homosexual, or that Snape liked to wear women's underwear.

Her friend held her hand up. "Listen, you want to get back at Ron, right? You want him to start noticing you, don't you? What better way to do that than to date Draco Malfoy? I know my brother - he wouldn't be able to stand the idea."

"Gin, stop kidding around. I'm serious," Hermione fumed.

"So am I," her friend bluntly put it all out there. "You said it yourself that you can't stand Malfoy, so what's the harm? It's not like you'll let him get anywhere with you. Besides, you did the same with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball."

"Except I _liked_ Viktor," she interjected.

"Listen, it gutted Ron to see you and Krum together," Ginny grinned like a mad doxy. "It'd make him swarmin' mad to see you with Malfoy."

"Yes, and then he'd never speak to me again," Hermione predicted. "And neither would Harry. It's bad enough _he _already believes Draco is a Death Eater. He'd be royally jelled if he knew I went on a date with the enemy."

"Unless you explained to Harry that you're secretly keeping tabs on Malfoy – to find out if Harry's theory is true or not," Ginny slyly offered.

Hermione was about to launch into a full-blown dispute, but then stopped her protestations, and really considered the solution that had been laid out before her. Could she stand to go with Malfoy to the Christmas Party? What would everyone think? If she laid it out that she was going only to keep a watch on Draco, well, that might work to deflect criticism, and it would keep her secrets safe regarding her quickly-dwindling (but foolishly lingering) feelings for Ron. And as for her ginger boy… Ginny was right. Going on a date with Draco Malfoy would hack Ron off. It was a seriously dodgy plan, but it seemed a good solution for the unsound situation in which she was caught. Malfoy was attempting to humiliate her, so why not just use him back to get what she wanted?

"Do you really think it could work? Truly?" Hermione asked. A persistent concern that she'd missed some minor detail in the plan that would exploit its viability spun through her mind, but for the moment, it didn't seem that poor a scheme.

Her partner in crime seriously considered it and nodded. "That no good Ferret's left you no choice. Do this and you're off the hook. At the same time, you'll win Ron's attention. And Harry will think you're doing his cause some good. You'll win all around."

Despite engaging in occasional duplicity over the last few years (all right, _a lot_ of trickery – but all for a good cause, to fight the good fight, and never for personal gain), Hermione felt the plan was still a smidge too dishonest, and felt guilty about committing such a blatant fraud. She also worried about what the other students in school would say upon hearing she was taking her most hated enemy on a date. She expressed her concerns.

Ginny flippantly waved about an unworried hand. "Just make people think it's because Slughorn asked that you come together, and treat it like no big deal. It'll blow over. No scandal stays alive long. Besides, all's fair in love and war, right?" she grinned.

"Love for Ron, war with Malfoy, you mean?" Hermione asked, feeling a small smile creep, unbidden, up her cheek. Although she'd never suspected her friend of such a level of slippery deviousness before – honestly, a Weasley acting like a Slytherin? Stop the presses! - she was beginning to like this plan.

Committing to the idea, Hermione firmly nodded. "Okay. Who do you recommend I tell first?"

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWELVE:**

**Have I mentioned that I absolutely, positively _thrive_ on your feedback, dearest readers? I'd love for you to press the little REVIEW THIS CHAPTER link below and leave me your thoughts about the story thus far (whether you're new to the story or you're reading this as version 2.0 after reading the original). It makes me undeniably happy to read your comments. ^_^**

**Kilt and bottel = Old English slang for "the whole collection"; comes from the combination of two words – kilt (the Scottish traditional plaid worn by men to signify their clan allegiance) and bottel (meaning 'a bunch' or 'bundle' – as in a bottel of straw). The metaphor represents the whole of a working-class man's worth (the clothing on his back and his ability to feed himself/his family) in pre-Industrial Scotland/England. From this phrase, it is believed the saying 'kit and caboodle' derives (an American saying from the late 1800's).**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: "Cowboy Casanova" by Carrie Underwood**


	13. Ch 13: Troublemaker's Blues

**Chapter Thirteen: Troublemaker's Blues**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland **_

_**November 4 – November 11, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year) **_

Draco started the week with a smile, but by Sunday, he was scowling and cursing his bad luck for ever knowing Hermione Granger.

On Monday the fourth, he'd gotten up, showered and made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, anticipating another fun-filled week of making Granger squirm. It would start, he'd decided, with catching her gaze across the dining hall at breakfast and throwing a kiss her way. That would get her egg, he was sure.

That day, however, something unexpected happened. For some reason, Granger queerly decided that sitting at a three-fourths angle in her chair, staring off to her left instead of straight on, was a naturally comfortable way to dine. This new position only allowed Draco a side profile of her face, and unfortunately left no chance for a visual confrontation between them. He'd been highly anticipating locking horns with the She-Devil that morning, but instead, he went away from breakfast feeling slighted.

She repeated the ploy at lunchtime, and again at that night's dinner. By then, Draco had caught on to what Granger was up to: she was purposefully sidestepping him, and surreptitiously letting him know it. At first, he was aggravated by the ploy, but then he found strange amusement in it. Obviously, he reasoned, this was her way of punishing him for the Library incident. She must have been affected by their kiss more than she'd let on! That realization gave him heart.

So, undeterred by her passive-aggressive attempts at payback, the next morning he decided to try throwing _her_ off by sitting at an angle, too – one that directly corresponding with hers from the previous day. It wasn't his usual seat, being much too close to where the first- and second-year Slytherins congregated for his taste, but he reasoned that it would give them a solid line of sight on each other, so there would be no way she could continue to ignore him. Believing he'd made her game, he sat in his new locale, feeling immensely smug at his own cleverness, and waited for her to show up.

Soon after the eight o'clock bell tolled, Granger entered the Hall with the Weasley girl in tow. The two were animatedly talking. He tracked her course over to the Gryffindor table, the anticipation of her reaction once she looked up and spied him settling like a firecracker in his guts. _Any moment now!_

She took her seat… and nonchalantly turned on the bench so that she was facing off to her right instead of the left, continuing her conversation with her red-headed friend without pause.

Draco felt his blood boil in his veins. "That bitch!" he snarled, fists clenched so tight that the nails bit rivets into the palms of his hands. Somehow, the tricky vixen had seen him from her peripheral vision and adjusted to oppose his counter. If he weren't so angry at being so brilliantly thwarted, he might have chuckled at Granger's Slytherin-like cunning. At that moment, however, he was far from pleased with her antics.

"We're not through yet," he vowed in a vehement undertone.

Malcolm Braddock, a second year sitting diagonal across the table, glanced over at him. "Are you… _growling?_" he asked, clearly shocked by his senior's strange mood.

Draco threw him a cold, venomous sneer. "Shut your gob, pimples, or I'll do your mum a favor and hex your face inside out."

The young wizard visibly swallowed in fear and wisely got up to exchange seats for further down the table.

In disgust that he'd unwittingly alerted others that something was amiss with him, and that he'd been made a jape by Hermione's shrewd calculation, Draco gathered his bag and stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving half of his plate untouched.

**X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X**

For the remainder of the week, he and Granger played a mental tug-of-war with each other. He'd angle himself just right so their gazes could meet - be it in the dining hall, or in classes, or even in the corridors - and she would intuitively seem to know what he was up to and, at the last minute, firmly change the direction of her head so their eyes would never touch. She made it appear as if these coincidental changes were by happenstance and not by intention, but Draco knew better. She was playing him for a lark. Worse, he knew what the whole sham meant, too: she was intending on backing out of their bargain. She wasn't going to take him to Slughorn's Christmas Party after all.

_Christ on a flippin' cracker!, _he angrily thought. She acted like one date and a shag was a big deal! Hell, it wasn't like they hadn't fooled around already…

Draco spent the entire weekend contemplating that thought by jerking off seven times in two days. He was sore and knackered and irritable come Sunday evening, but by then, he'd finally come up with a good plan for dealing with Granger.

The following Monday morning, the eleventh, Draco's mood was greatly improved. He even whistled as he strolled along the corridors towards class. The reason was simple: he intended to pick a fight with Granger in first period today. Making her flip her wig would help to relieve his stress levels, and it would end this stalemate between them once and for all. Besides, it would be absolutely mint to watch her lose her temper in front of a teacher.

After arriving at the Potions Lab, he hung around just inside the doorway, waiting for her to enter. She arrived behind Scarhead and Weaselbee, as usual, and they were speaking in harsh whispers to each other. He moved in behind her and covertly eavesdropped.

"How many times do you want me to explain it to you, Harry, Ron?" she whispered, clearly exasperated. "It's not that big a deal."

Potter shook his head. "It _is_ a big deal, Hermione! You could get hurt. He's dangerous."

"Yeah, 'Mione, I agree with Harry," Ron predictably argued. "This idea tops your previous schemes – and you _know_ how outrageous some of those were. Hell, I'd rather you tangle with centaurs again than take that bloody git on a date!"

Granger made a cutting motion with her hand. "Look, we'll talk about this later in private, okay?" she huffed under her breath and took a seat at a potions bench in the opposite row, directly across from Potter and Weasley, who sat next to each other, sharing a table with Theodore Nott.

Draco slyly worked his way around to the other side of the bench, hoping to take the available seat to her left, but to his annoyance, he found Zabini already there. Refusing to accept any sort of setback to his plans today, he simply tapped his friend on the shoulder and gave him a firm, jerking nod with his chin to indicate that the guy needed to find another seat pronto. Astonished at first, Blaise looked to his right at an oblivious Granger, whose nose was stuck in her satchel as she rooted around for her quill and ink, and back up at Draco. With a knowing grin, he obediently gathered his school bag and hopped off the stool, rounding the room to take the seat next to Nott. Draco threw his friend a 'thanks, mate' nod and plunked down next to Granger, resting his chin on his hand, waiting with eager anticipation for her to notice him. It took all of two seconds.

"Oh, for Godric's sake!" she groaned. "Can't you take a hint?"

He said nothing, just shook his head and grinned from ear to ear.

Score two, Draco.

Slughorn strolled into the room, his goofy mortarboard perched jauntily upon his balding head, the tassle swinging down to smack the side of his puffy face, and Granger petulantly sat back in her stool with a soft tsk-ing noise, knowing it was too late to switch seats.

"_I _don't mind _you_ for a bench partner, Granger," he whispered to her. "At least the view is nice."

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she followed the path of his gaze as he checked out her legs. Her skirt had ridden up and, as she was wearing knee socks today, not tights, some of her soft, round thigh was revealed. With a soft clearing of her throat to indicate annoyance at his perversion, she primly arranged the hem and side pleats to cover up. Draco chuckled as her cheeks pinked with embarrassment, and her spine went rigid with anger in response. Oh, this was turning out to be so much fun!

"Today," their Professor began, "you will partner up with the person sharing your side of the table. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty-four, and begin mixing the ingredients for an Advanced Befuddlement Draught." He turned an hourglass over on his table. "You will have exactly two hours to complete this task. I'll do periodic checks on your progress, so…" he swung his fist in the air in an encouraging gesture, "give it some welly!" With that, Horace sat down at his desk and began grading papers from his other classes.

Draco turned to his partner with great merriment and slapped her on the shoulder once. "Guess you're with me for today. Lucky you," he sniggered. The muscles in Hermione's cheek twitched and to his ultimate delight, he actually heard her teeth grinding in barely restrained anger. Ignoring her fit of temper, he opened his Potions book to the appropriate page, and read over the ingredient list: valerian root, sneezewort, scurvy-grass and lovage. The last three ingredients, according to the book, caused a person to become easily hot-headed and reckless, whether taken together or individually. The effects were short-term – a few minutes at most – but one was advised to handle them all with extreme caution.

Lovely! Just what the School Matron ordered!

"Let's get to it, then, shall we?" he taunted, walking towards the supply closet with the rest of the students. Behind him, he heard Granger sigh.

**X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X**

The morning had gone quite up to snuff, Draco thought.

It was the final minutes of class, and they had perfected their draught and were left with only the final ingredient to add. Granger had insisted that she be the one to crush the juice of the lovage pod while she assigned him to stir the potion, as it required a continuous whisking action. When she accidentally touched her stained fingers to her lips as she brushed her hair from her sweaty face, Draco had caught the blunder, but chose to remain silent, waiting for the inevitable with gleeful anticipation.

Within minutes, his Potions partner was a raving lunatic, screeching at him for not swirling the cauldron fast enough. He gave her his best look of innocence and mildly replied that if she thought he was too slow, he would be more than willing to turn the stirring of the pot over to her instead. "That is, if you feel the inclination to whip our Befuddlement into shape, Miss Granger."

With flashing eyes and a snarl, she'd reached for her apothecary hammer.

Fortunately, Draco had been able to fend off her violent hand with a quick wave of his wand, but as a result of their disturbance, they'd both gotten detention with Professor Slughorn, to be served this coming Friday night. They were also both assigned a three-hundred word punishment essay for disrupting the class. "I must admit to being terribly disappointed in the both of you," Sluggie chastised. "One would think you'd know better than to bring your House rivalry into the classroom, Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy." Clearly, the old fool had no idea that Granger had been the victim of an ingredient's negative side-effects, and he'd turned them away to quickly clean-up their mess before that little fact could be brought to his attention.

Gryffindor's Princess' temper hit the roof, and she threw a black look at Draco as she hurriedly _Scourgify_'d their work bench and properly disposed of unused ingredients as well as their spoiled potion. He used the same spell to clean their cauldron and levitated it back into the in-room crockery cupboard, where all students housed their heavy pots during the school year. That done, she grabbed her satchel, threw him a final, weighty scowl, and stormed out of the room exactly as the hour bell tolled the end of the period.

Score three, he just needed to keep her off-balance, so he could badger her into not flaking out on their date.

He followed her out as the class broke up, and noticed Potter and the King Weasel slightly ahead of him, keeping their wary eyes on Granger from a distance. _Pussies_, Draco scathingly thought.

When they reached the Entrance Hall, the Golden Trio split into two directions. The Dunderheaded Duo headed off for their second class with a nervous promise to meet up with Hermione at lunch, while she headed for the stairs. Draco followed her up to the fourth floor, believing she planned to take a breather in the Library, her favorite retreat. Once more, though, she did something unpredictable: she headed past the Library's entrance to a side room far down the end of the hallway. He slipped in moments after her, careful in his stealthy approach so as not to give away his presence.

The strange room – perhaps an adjunct for the Library at one time, as it was much too small for a classroom, and much too lovely for simple storage – wasn't very spacious, and framed with ionic columns and high gothic arches made of smooth marble. Draco quietly shut the door behind him and locked it, making sure the wood didn't bang against its frame, and that the metal lock didn't scrape into its fittings. He also cast a Silencing Charm over the threshold in anticipation of the shouting match that was to come.

He stepped forward into the room, and was surprised to see that it was barren of any furniture. Against the far wall, high arched windows with stained glass reliefs reflected the noontime sun, and dust motes floated here and there in the warm shafts of light that crisscrossed the space. In the middle of the room was a curiously large, bare patch where the stone's natural color had faded. Whatever had been in the room previously had obviously been there a long time, but was no more.

Granger ran into the middle of the room and threw her satchel down on the floor in disgust. She crouched down, hanging her head over her lap, and braced her center of gravity on her fingertips pressing into the stone floor. The crenellations in the glass from the windows twinkled broken rainbows of light down upon her, reflecting a myriad of colors across her skin, hair and clothes, making her appear otherworldly.

Hiding behind a marble column, Draco watched and listened.

"Damn you!" she wailed, frustrated and clearly bitter. "Why did you have to be so nice to me? Why did you have to kiss me?"

Draco froze. Was she referring to him? Or, he thought darkly, someone else? Had Weasley finally got a nut-up and snogged her a good one? Maybe that's why she'd been so disinterested in him this last week.

He felt unexpected stirrings of jealousy manifest as a tight pressure in his chest. _No, she's mine, _something deep within his subconscious aggressively contended. _MINE!_

The vicious shaking of her head back and forth drew him back in to the here and now, and he strained to hear as she began talking aloud.

"I love Ron," she murmured over and over, as if trying to convince her heart and mind of that little fact. "I want to be his girlfriend! I want… I want… Oh, God!" Sobs tore at her body, making her fragile shoulders shake. Her fists clenched the sides of her temples and squeezed as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Stop it! Stop thinking of Malfoy! Stop thinking of wanting him and that kiss! It's all wrong!"

Draco's heart skipped a beat and he held his breath.

Fuckin' A. She _had_ been talking about him! Apparently, the kiss had meant something more to her than she had let on. Relieved, the knot in his guts loosened up, and he felt more confident than he had in days.

"Why did you have to kiss me?" she whispered again, agonized by the knowledge that she'd apparently liked their little snog session.

Without missing a beat, he stepped out from behind the column and walked towards her, hands clenched with restrained elation and shoved deep into his trouser pockets. "It's simple really: I kissed you because I wanted you, Granger."

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER THIRTEEN:**

**Gob = British slang for "your mouth."**

**Give It Some Welly = British slang term for "give it your all!/put your best effort into it!"**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: "For Your Entertainment" by Adam Lambert. **


	14. Ch 14: Corruptible Virtue

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Warning – there is dub-con/non-con in this chapter. It is vital for the over-arcing story plot, but also a bit disturbing.**

**Also, from this point on in the story, expect the "M" rating to be taken very seriously, as detailed for you at the start of chapter 1. I will not repeat this warning, so you read on at your own risk.**

**Just remember that this story has, eventually, a happy Dramione ending. How we get there from here will require you to have a little faith in your author and to let the story unfold as it was intended. :)**

**For those who read this story in its revision 1.0 version, this chapter has had the most work done on it thus far, with an additional ~2000 words added. None of it changes the plot; it only adds more depth to the description of events.**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Corruptible Virtue**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**November 11, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year) **_

Caught completely unawares, Granger whirled in surprise at being eavesdropped upon, flying to her feet to confront her interloper. Seeing Draco before her, knowing he'd overheard her whole conversation, she stared at him in horror, her jaw slack with shock.

_Score, for the win! _he congratulated his own cleverness. The power had just shifted between them with her out loud confession of wanting to do a little horizontal sweat-swimming with him. As a result, he currently held the upper hand in their emotional sparring match, and he planned to press that advantage to the hilt. There was no way she was getting out of their date now!

Stopping a foot or so from her, he let his gaze wander her form from head to toe, just as he had back at the start of term. He drank in her unruly hair, her quivering lips, and her wide, shimmering eyes and abruptly felt a familiar stirring in his gut. Again, that odd sensation of being drawn to and falling into her – the same as he'd felt on the eve of her birthday, and which had followed him in the month and a half later up to the Astronomy Tower on Halloween night, and out onto a covered bridge in the cold of winter a few days after, and finally into the Library just the other week – overtook his senses.

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he wanted Hermione Granger more than any other girl he'd ever had or fantasized about having, but this feeling of belonging to her, and of her equally belonging to him, was overpowering and undeniable. This was more than mere lust. It was the need to hold her as close to him as possible, to make her heart beat in time with his own, to breathe her air, and to know unequivocally that she wanted him in the same way.

He'd followed her up here today hoping for a row, but now, he wasn't so sure he wanted to cause her any more pain - _ever_. He shifted his sweaty hands in his pockets, unsure exactly what he might do and sighed at his own ineptness. "I said I wanted you," he confessed again, feeling foolish that she hadn't yet replied to his confession. "That's why I kissed you."

Her features realigned as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Now she looked skeptical.

Draco ran a frustrated hand through his straight, platinum hair. This was absurd! Why wasn't she _saying _anything? Cursing him? Scoffing at him? Throwing her body at his feet and thanking her lucky stars? "Is this too hard a concept for you to grasp?" he snidely bit, falling back on mockery to cover his uncertainty.

Hermione finally replied: she sniffed in disbelief. "You want me?" she challenged, punctuating each word for clarity's sake. "As in, romantically?" She laughed when he curtly nodded once. "Right. I might believe sexually after the incident in the Library, but anything more? Are you serious?"

He scowled and tsk'd at her mistaken opinion, feeling petulant. "So, what if I am?"

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Alright, I'll play along. How long have you 'wanted me' - in any capacity?"

_Definitely since the night of your birthday – with you half-naked on that desk. That sealed it for me, Princess_, he almost said, but shut his mouth before it slipped out. She didn't remember anything from that night, or the following few days.

Hell, maybe he should just he tell her everything, and hope it jarred her memory. Would she laugh at him in disbelief over the unbelievable tale? What if she didn't? What if she believed him? Perhaps if she remembered how they'd enjoyed each other that one night, she'd want him as much as he wanted her.

But she'd also seen the Dark Mark on his arm that night.

He internally slapped that thought down. There was no way he could bring up that night – not ever. He'd have to let it stay buried forever, for both of their sakes. Frankly, he couldn't afford to blow his cover as a Death Eater, no matter the reason. The Dark Lord would kill him, would murder his family, and he'd most certainly target Granger. He'd managed to keep his secret safe the first time it had been revealed to her, but he instinctively knew he wouldn't be so lucky a second time.

"Does it matter?" he affected nonchalance, shrugging. "A while."

She was clearly filled with doubt about his sincerity. "What does this all boil down to, Malfoy? That you want me for a... well, for a girlfriend or something?"

"You don't listen so well for someone so bright," he glowered. "So, what if I do?"

She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "Why?"

Draco smirked, the insolent mask back in place. He always fell back on a feigned arrogance to keep from making mistakes. It came easily after all these years of practice. "You're pretty, you're sharp witted, and you've got a killer body. Every guy in school has wet dreams about you - even me."

The thought of being every young male's fantasy scandalized her. Her jaw dropped again and her eyes rounded. It had clearly never occurred to her just how delectable she really was to members of the opposite sex until just that moment. How refreshingly naïve! He chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she asked, her temper riled.

"You," he delighted. "You're too naïve for your own good."

Frowning in disapproval, she put her hands on her hips, adopting one of his favorite poses in her repertoire – that of the stern schoolmarm lecturer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head in wonder and snickered. "You're such a virgin, Granger."

She reeled back, her cheeks instantly reddening. "Wha-what… does that have to do with anything?"

Being so bluntly reminded of her "untouched" state suddenly changed the moment. It was like a switch inside Draco's body – the one bridling his sexual thirst - turned on, while another – the one master of his rationality and control - switched off. He felt suddenly and unexpectedly amped with energy. His heart pounded out a strong rhythm in his chest, and his blood burned through his veins.

His eyes were magnetically drawn to Granger's pretty, lightly freckled face, and he took a good, long look. With the kaleidoscope of colors haloing her features, and having dropped the strong-willed front for a shy hesitancy at being called out for her inexperience, she seemed softer, more femininely alluring and delicate – _vulnerable_. The masculine, predatory part within his subconscious noticed and was drawn to the surface, assessing her by traveling the length of her body. It was the same path as he'd followed on the first day of term, when she'd bumped into him in the corridor and they'd locked horns. This time, he had a solid visual image of her luscious, naked breasts and the tactile memory of her soft lips, her eager hands, and her whimpering, desperate moans to go along with the fantasy, though.

Lust surged hot and powerful through his limbs, causing him to become aroused to the point of near pain. That darker part inside his heart, the thing that had been prowling through his head over the past two months whenever he daydreamed about this girl, pushed forward. Draco shook from its possession as a haze settled over his will.

God, he wanted to fuck her. Hard. Fast. Desperate. He wanted to sink his teeth into her throat and hold firm as he took her. He wanted her screaming his name, along with the promise of his ownership of her, as she creamed on his cock over and over again. He wanted her whispering the secrets of her heart as he continued to take her in one position after another, and he wanted his come soaking into her so that she'd forever know who she belonged to.

_You are mine._

As he traveled back up her body to her face, their gazes connected, and he let her see what he was thinking. Her eyes widened in recognition of the danger, and she began to tremble.

_So innocent. Take her now!_ the darkness inside of him screamed.

Like the night in September in the dungeon, he had no strength of mind to question the compulsion. His baser side roared to the surface, fully dominating him, and without conscious thought, his feet swiftly crossed the distance between them. Hermione hastened to back up until he pinned her against the wall, caging her between his arms. Having practiced this move once already in the Library, it was an easy thing for him to bend his head and capture her lips in a demanding, sensuous kiss.

As before, Hermione went as still as stone, allowing his mouth to take as he willed, but unlike last time, Draco didn't pull back. This time, he kissed her for all he was worth, until at last, she began to respond.

At first, she was hesitant, but then she opened her mouth for him and tentatively stroked her tongue against his. That strange red fire flashed behind his eyelids and the inner pocket of his trousers – the one that housed the ribbon, tucked neatly inside - grew warm against his lower abdomen.

Abruptly, desire exploded between them and all control was lost. They grasped at each other as if drowning, kissing deep and hard and openly carnal, enslaved by lust.

Here it was, he'd found it again – that feeling he'd longed for since their first kiss! The need to be in, around and one with Hermione Granger was so complete that it wrapped around him, held his soul in thrall, and caused his heart to beat with fierce passion. It consumed him, made him forget who he had been before, and carved out a whole new destiny for him. It was fire and light and storm all wrapped up into one. It was a cosmic enchantment, more compulsory than any dark magic he'd ever experienced.

Her kiss was his center. He pumped his tongue between the parted seam of her lips, and she drew on it with a soft, feminine sigh, pulling him in closer, winding him tighter. Christ, he burned inside and out, starved for more of her sweet taste, more of her soft skin. He had to touch every inch of her soon or he'd go up in flames. He was losing his fucking mind.

When Hermione's delicate, ink-stained hands roamed up his chest and caressed over his covered pecs, electric sparks shot up Draco's spine, bursting against that spot at the back of his neck that set him reeling. He growled low in his throat and fisted her hair, forcibly pulling her head back, baring her throat to his branding kisses. As he expertly ran his mouth over her exposed flesh, knowing just where to lave and where to nip, his witch gasped in abandonment, her body quivering with anticipation. Her moans and hungry gasps urged him on. With an insistent nudging aside of her stiff shirt collar, he bit down over her pulse with slight pressure. "Oh!" she cried out and grabbed his robes to pull him into her as she fell back into the wall, and turned her neck in a silent plea for more. Unable to stop, he bit down harder, leaving an imprint of his teeth, definitively marking her.

"You're _mine_," he murmured against the shell of her ear, holding her head still, thrusting his hips into hers to let her feel his rock-hard erection and rubbing up and down through the vee of her legs.

"Malfoy…" she whimpered his name in supplication, her tiny fingers gripping his shoulders as a lifeline, her hips very tentatively undulating against his. "I can't… think. What's happening?"

He skimmed his fingers up her waist to cup her breast through her clothing, and worked his mouth around to cover hers again. "Just feel," he entreated. As he bit and suckled upon her bottom lip, he continued the rhythm of his pelvis against hers. "Say my name, Hermione," he demanded around ravenous pulls of lips. "I need to hear it. Say 'Draco'."

"Draco," she sighed into his mouth.

"God, _yes,_" he groaned, attacking her with voracious desire.

The feelings coursing through his veins were more powerful than anything he'd ever encountered in the whole of his life. They were not like the patient or soft considerations he'd shown in the Library. These were hot, compelling demands that he had absolutely no will to deny. He was a drug addict, utterly desperate for the high only Hermione could give him. Her scent and taste destroyed his rationality, emptied his mind of all but this essential, urgent primacy to have her for his own. He had to touch her skin… had to feel her warmth…

He released his hold on her breast and undid the center fastening on her robe, pushing the heavy woolen garment off her shoulders, and as soon as she dropped her arms, to the floor. Before she could protest, he lifted her charcoal-grey jumper up and over her arms, tossing it aside. Her tie was next, loosened from its knot, to be left hanging and unfettered on either side of her collar. As he used the ends to tease her breasts over her clothing, her breathing picked up, blasting across his cheek and he dove for her throat once more, unleashing the top button with a quick movement of thumb and index finger so he'd have more freedom.

"Oh! Oh, Draco!" she whined as he sucked hard over the bite mark, leaving a love bruise as well.

Sliding her skirt up, he lifted her leg under a knee and wrapped it around him, creating the perfect cradle for his hips and opening her up. "Fuck," he whispered, as the hot flush of a searing sweat rolled over his senses, causing him to overheat. He needed his clothes off. He needed to have his naked chest touch hers again, as it had that night he'd laid her down on the desk in that strange classroom.

With rough hands, he took hold of her white dress shirt on either side of the divide and with a powerful yank, tore it open, popping the buttons free. Hermione gasped, but he captured any protest she might have made with a blistering kiss, even as his fingers roamed up to cup and massage both breasts. He ran his hands and mouth all over her exposed skin, caressing, squeezing and sucking on her nips through her pretty, cream-colored bra.

_More_, the voice in his mind commanded, and he obeyed. Jerking the fabric of her lingerie down, exposing her sweet, rosy nipples to the air, he bent his head and suckled upon each in turn. His teeth grazed and tugged at the tiny buds, making her melt into his seduction.

"Oh, my God!" she cried out between panting breaths, her fingers feathering through his hair, her fingernails scraping against his scalp. "Oh, Dr-Draco!"

Her mewling cries only enticed him further, and things between them began moving too fast, then.

As if he were being guided by an outside force, his hands moved to the back of her waist, finding the enclosure for her skirt. Nimbly, he unbuttoned it and pulled down the zip, loosening the garment. He tugged it off her hips, and it unceremoniously dropped to the floor. Hermione's pale blue, cotton knickers were next. With deft movement, he slid them off, pulling the fabric down her slender, shapely legs. Falling to his knees before her, he let his mouth wander to her belly, kissing and rimming with his tongue the small indent in the center. As he glanced down, he caught sight of her dark brown curls shielding the center of her femininity and a surge of renewed lust slammed into his gut. Her innocence was completely exposed to a man – _him_ - for the first time. He didn't hesitate to bury his mouth against her mound, to taste that sweet cherry.

His fingers tightly gripped her hips to hold her in place as he delved between the seam of her lower lips, licking in one bold move up the entire length of her cleft. Hermione _wailed_, throwing her head back, digging her fingernails into Draco's shoulders.

"Yes, oh, yes!" she keened, lifting a leg and throwing it over his shoulder, riding his face with crazed abandon.

Christ, she tasted and smelled so good, and she was soaking wet already! His mouth flicked and sucked her clit with exquisite draws of his lips and tongue, coaxing from her wild cries. She was so sweet and soft, so enchanting. His Princess…

His fingers spread her open and from below, he inserted a finger into her, carefully moving through the torturously tight, saturated canal and establishing a rhythm. She bucked in time to his advances and retreats, even as his tongue circled the tiny nub of swollen flesh at the top, providing dual stimulation.

No, this angle was all wrong. He needed her on her back.

Gripping her waist, he tugged her down to the floor, laying her across his haphazardly-spread cloak. She gave only a small yelp in surprise, before he was leaning over her on an elbow and kissing her as fiercely as before, letting her taste her delectable essence on his lips and tongue. His fingers quickly moved between her legs to continue their exploration of her moist core, tickling and sensuously rubbing her clit.

Sliding his mouth over her throat, down over her delicate neckline, he absorbed the flavor of her skin, relishing her texture and the slightly salty tang of her flesh, addicting his senses further. Hermione's fingers entangled in his hair, drawing and keeping him close. Even as he took a berry-ripe nipple back into his mouth, he thrust his finger inside her drenched pussy once more. Her lower body clenched up, tightening for climax as he rubbed his thumb over her clit at the same time, and she bent her outside knee up in an unconscious move to cradle him to her.

"I'm burning up in red fire," she panted, her head thrown back, her eyes tightly closed. "Draco, oh… I'm… so close!"

"Come for me," he bid around suckling of her tit. "Come, Hermione."

Twisting his finger inside of her opening with just the right amount of pressure and nibbling on her breast, he threw her into the storm with him. Her thigh muscles clamped, her hips bucked off the floor, and with a muffled scream behind her hand, she met her end. Her climax was powerful, rippling through her whole body as waves of pleasure that caused her to violently quiver from head to toe. It tore his control to shreds.

Need pounded away in his body and skull, roared over his senses and everything else simply dissolved before it. A red haze filtered over his vision, and an animal's lust gripped him in its teeth and shook his soul. Skin on skin - that's what he needed right now. Nothing else mattered.

Stripping off his vest and tie with quick movement, Draco tore open his shirt in much the same manner as he'd done to Hermione's earlier, uncaring of the buttons flying every which way across the stone floor. With shaking hands, he undid his belt, unzipped and freed his hard shaft from confinement at last, tugging his trousers and pants down and off at the same time as he toed off his shoes. Kneeling between her legs, he grabbed her hips, and tilted them up, placing the wide crest of his cock against her tiny opening.

Without pause, he pushed in through the tight ring of skin, feeling her moist heat envelope first the tip, then every inch of his cock as he slid inside the slick canal. Her silken flesh stretched around him, opened wide as he surged forward. He felt the thin barrier of her virginity give way, felt her inner muscles clamp down on him, but he drove through until he was seated fully to the hilt. "Hermione," he groaned in rapture.

Yes, here was where he belonged, inside of her, connected and whole. She was his, at last. His blood roared triumphantly through his ears, deafening him to anything but the slamming of his heart in his chest.

There was no possibility of taking things slow or gentle. The dark primacy of his need wouldn't allow it. The demonic fever that held him in thrall compelled him to find his ending within her and soon.

Immediately moving, he slid in and out of the impossibly tight fist of her flesh, driving his hips into hers with each snapping thrust forward. Vaguely he heard her saying something, felt her fingernails raking along his arms, but the words and the pain didn't register in his lust-fogged brain. There was only his impending climax, and the need… Slytherin's soul, this need flayed him alive!

"Hermione, feel me," he murmured around kissing her sweet, tempting mouth, and he pressed his forehead to hers, gasping, straining, his rhythmic pounding a relentless beat that matched his heart's rate as he approached his orgasm. "Please, take me," he begged, grabbing her hips to still her as she reared up and nearly dislodged him. She moaned in response and her fingernails cut crests into his bared pecs.

He bent his head for her breasts again and began sucking on them, drawing the taut peaks with firm pulls. Beneath him, Hermione squirmed, and he quickened his pace, pounding now into her tight shelter, shuttling past exquisite, wet tissue into her secret depths. Lava boiled through his sac and up his shaft. "Oh, Christ, I'm coming!" he gasped, recognizing that familiar, shattering sensation rushing through him, and promptly shifted his hands down to cup her backside against him so he could pulse deep inside her body.

With two powerful thrusts and her name on his lips, he exploded in waves of blazing ecstasy, his hot seed spurting out of him in uncontrollable bursts into her womb. Silver detonations flashed behind his shut lids and he swore in that moment, he touched Heaven.

As the rush retreated, and the glow of complete and utter satiation leisurely stole over his limbs, he collapsed to his elbows. When even they shook, he dropped to his forearms, resting his sweaty head upon his lover's breast. His throat was raw, his body hurt, and it seemed to take a lifetime for his heart to calm. Exhausted, still intimately contained inside the girl he loved, Draco relished the sensation of their combined fluids, so warm and silky, flowing over his relaxing penis. He was thoroughly sated, having never known such completion before.

Minutes passed and slowly, the haze over his rational self retreated, returning sanity and strength to his bones. On sore, tired arms, he leaned up, smiling down at her…

Hermione's face was a picture of agony. Tracks of tears streaked down her scarlet cheeks, and her lips were swollen, a thin trickle of blood sprinkling them. Her eyelids were tightly shut, as if she couldn't bear to look at him, and she shook as if in shock.

Confused by her reaction, he gently feathered her cheek with his fingertips, but she turned away, as if she didn't want him to touch her. "Hermione?"

Her lids snapped open and they were so filled with hate that he was taken aback. "Get off me!" she hissed, pushing on his shoulders. Their bodies disconnected as she shoved him back and out of her, and he was forced to his knees before her. Visibly wincing, she gave a little whimper as she moved into a seated position, and his gaze was drawn downwards…

Blood stained her thighs.

Remorse for having taken her virginity rougher than he had wanted twisted his insides around. If he'd been in his right mind, he'd have been gentler, taken the proper time. But he hadn't been in control and he'd unintentionally hurt her, and that bothered him.

What the hell had happened there, anyway? He'd never been so unrestrained… so _feral_.

Reaching out to hold her, to comfort her pain, to try to make it right somehow, he touched her shoulder. She turned her head and bit his hand, hard."What the bloody devil is the matter?" he drew back, stunned.

"Fix it!" she screamed, in a panicked tone. "Fix me! I want to get out of here!" She hiccupped around a fresh bout of tears. "Oh God, right now I hate you more than anything! How could you have done that to me, Malfoy? How could you?"

Draco frowned at her accusation, as well as her return to the use of his surname. "Look, I know I could have been gentler, and I'm sorry for that, but... well hell, Granger, you seemed to enjoy yourself!"

Big, rolling tears fell from her wounded eyes. "I did not enjoy _that!_" she spat at him.

This was the first time since he'd become sexually active that a woman had ever criticized his skill, and Draco found it stung his pride - especially when such commentary came from the one girl he actually cared for. "As I recall, you came pretty damned hard," he countered.

She shook her head, openly sobbing now. "It was nice at first, but then when you went to… I _begged_ you to stop. You didn't listen! You didn't care that I didn't want to do this!"

"Look, Granger, I don't recall you saying 'no,'" he argued, but some instinct had him pausing that thought.

Wait, she had said something to him, hadn't she? What had it been?

Memories of the last few minutes flashed through his head in an instant, and the sound of her terrified voice rang in his ears:

"_No, don't do this!" _

"_Draco, no! God, stop… STOP!"_

_"You're hurting me! Please, no more!"_

A core of ice stabbed straight through his heart, trumping his previous high and destroying it. All of his limbs began to uncontrollably shake. "Wait, you can't think… I didn't… Hermione, I swear I didn't mean to hurt you! I swear it!"

She wept, covering her breasts with her arms, and scrunching her legs up to hide her nakedness - a protective gesture, a gesture of mistrust. She _feared_ him. He'd caused her pain. God, he'd pretty much raped her, hadn't he? How could he have done this? He was an honest-to-Christ bad guy now.

The mark under his left arm squirmed and burned. Pressing his fingers down on the Dark Mark that lay beneath the white cotton shirt, he heard mocking, mad laughter in his mind.

_Take her again!_ a sadistic voice crowed.

He gripped at his head, shaking it back and forth. It was the same voice from earlier, the same command. What the fuck was going on? _Who are you?_ he silently demanded.

The voice didn't reply. Instead, it faded back into oblivion, leaving him cold.

Oh, fuck, he was possessed by something, wasn't he? And it had something to do with taking the Dark Mark, didn't it? The movement under his skin since the term began – since that first day he and Granger had their odd confrontation in the corridor… it was because of this, wasn't it? Something inside of him had awoken. But what? How?

His shudders intensified. What was happening to him?

He scowled at the tribal skull sigil hidden beneath his shirt. Had taking the Dark Mark opened him to the evil of his own soul?

Hermione's sobs quieted, and he was drawn to look at her again as she took a shaky, deep breath. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "_Accio_ wand," she called, magically conveying the object from her satchel, which lay on the floor feet away from them. It came in a flash and slapped into her palm. With a flick of her wrist and a murmured word, she collected her clothes and began repairing them. She then slipped back into them, moving gingerly with obvious discomfort. Draco could only watch her preparing to leave him, numb. He wanted to reach out to her, to explain what had happened, to hold her again, but he knew he'd destroyed any chance of any of that happening now. She'd never trust him. He'd lost her forever. For the first time in his life, he felt his heart break apart.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he whispered in agony, his chest caving. "I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I… I love you."

His witch said nothing, not even acknowledging his confession. When she'd redressed, and used her magic to _Scourgify_ the mess between her thighs, she made her feet and turned her back on him. "This never happened," she stated, her voice hoarse and strained with emotion. "If you ever tell anyone, Malfoy - especially Ron…" Her words caught on the name, and she trembled as she paused. Sniffling, she cleared her throat, obviously gathering her courage, but her tone still reflected her anguish. "Please, just… just leave me alone from now on! Don't come near me again!"

With that entreaty hanging between them, she swept down to collect her bag and left without another word. He watched her walk away, the sense of loss so powerful in his chest that he wanted to jump off the tallest tower in the castle to his death to make it stop.

When her footfalls faded, Draco lay back, pressing his cheek to the grey stone floor and stared out one of the windows, through the clear, uncolored pieces to note the sky far above. He lay unmoving, watching the play of the sun all the rest of that afternoon, until finally, twilight fell. During that time, the bright, warm rainbows that had been reflected around him for so many hours had changed slowly into malignant shadows, until finally they too were swallowed up by pervading night and were no more.

He lay on the cold floor and wept the loss of innocence.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER FOURTEEN:**

**Musical selections recommended for this chapter: **

"_**On Fire" by Switchfoot**_** (Draco's thoughts about Hermione)**

"_**Papercut" by Linkin Park**_** (Draco's internal thoughts about his 'other' personality)**


	15. Ch 15: Remembering You

**Chapter Fifteen: Remembering You**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland **_

_**November 11-12, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

Hermione ran through blinding tears up to the fifth floor, slamming the door to the Prefects' bathroom behind her, locking it. Throwing down her satchel and stripping off her clothes, she ran into the showers and turned on the hot water. Pressing her head under the spray, she sobbed and reached for the communal soap, her hands uncontrollably shaking as she frantically scrubbed her skin raw. After every inch of her body had been scoured, and the adrenaline that had sustained her energy levels faded, a bone-weary exhaustion set in. Slumping against the tile wall, she slid to the floor and wrapped her arms about her knees, cradling her face on them, letting the water continue to wash over her.

God help her, she'd given into the forbidden! She'd allowed red, fiery lust to cloud her mind… and the punishment had been her virginity. The throbbing ache between her legs was a heartless reminder of what she'd just lost.

She should have run from the room when she'd first turned and spied Malfoy. She should have never returned his kiss, much less let him remove her clothes. Hermione usually prided herself on her good judgment, so why hadn't she any today? She had ignored her instincts and done all the wrong things, letting her mind fuzz and going with his advice to simply let the moment unfold as it was meant to. And the sickening truth was: it had been blissfully liberating to break the rules and will her fate into the arms of total abandonment – to give into whatever this was that had been burning hot and desperate between her and Malfoy since that night on the bridge, when he'd held her under his coat to share his warmth.

No, wait… it had been going on much longer than that, hadn't it? He'd hinted on Halloween eve that something had occurred between them the night of her birthday a month prior – something that had brought them close and made her a "feisty animal," in his words.

Again, she paused in thought. Now that she considered it, this odd attraction between them went even further back than that, didn't it? This slow, reckless seduction of the senses for both of them had started the first day of school this term. She recalled the dark, desirous look he'd thrown her when they'd squared off in the corridor, her books at his feet and her wild hair in her face. It had only been a moment, but it had been clear: he'd looked at her with a ravenous sexual awareness. And she'd unexpectedly responded to that call with a tightening of her body and a quickening of her blood that she'd been sure he'd seen. The continual staring he'd engaged in thereafter had frequently drawn her eyes to him, to the point where she'd unconsciously sought him out across a room or in the halls, just to see if he was looking at her again with _that_ expression.

Oh, Godric, she'd really liked that he'd shown interest in her, hadn't she?

And that was the real bitter pill to swallow here, wasn't it? She'd actually _enjoyed_ Draco's appreciation of her over the past few months, maybe even vainly craved it at times. Knowing she'd had the attention of Slytherin's most eligible and eye-catching Prince – a pureblood who'd evinced a disdain of her from the first moment they'd met – had been a powerful aphrodisiac to her sorely neglected feminine side. It had secretly made her feel, for the first time in her life, an attractive, desirable young woman - especially in the face of Ron's continual obliviousness.

Today, however, she'd allowed that foolish narcissism a chance to revel, and was now paying the price.

There was no hiding the truth: this afternoon, in the Room of Erised, she'd desired Malfoy just as much as he had her. She'd taken great pleasure in what he'd done to her with his hands and mouth, right up until the point where they'd actually had sex…

_In a rush, he crossed the distance and stole away the last of her sanity as his mouth lowered to cover hers with an expert, passionate need._ _The shock from his unexpected possession lasted only a moment, however, before natural curiosity got the better of her. With inexperienced shyness, she kissed back. Red fire burst behind her eyelids the moment her tongue touched his, enveloping her whole body in warmth and a burning need for more of his taste and touch. An explosion of carnal lust shot through her body – an experience she'd never encountered before – and suddenly, her hands weren't her own, her mouth belonged to some wanton hussy, and all of her chaste hesitation simply melted away._

_He thrust his tongue into her mouth to a rhythm that coaxed and disarmed her, and he ravaged her throat with branding nips and hard sucking. His hips made wicked thrusts against her most delicate center, and she could feel his hard arousal pressing into the very core of her through their clothing. _

"_You're mine."_

_Her heart had skipped madly around in her chest at that bold, unwavering claim, and the thought that he was soul-deep right – that she did belong with him - passed through her with cosmic certainty, leaving her shaking. _

_Yet, even as her hips moved against his, she knew something was wrong. This feeling… it was good, but too fast and too much at once. She couldn't seem to pull-away or to find the strength to tell him to stop, though._

_Things blurred after that, as she submitted to the feelings, just as he'd requested. Her clothes were lost in a dizzying blur, and first his hands, then his mouth latched onto her breast. He was on his knees in a blink, and her knickers were slid over her thighs and down. His tongue was suddenly there – in her most sacred spot - licking with delicious persistence through the center of her moist flesh, and she all but howled with the rapturous feelings. Her mouth moved, words escaped her lips, but she had no idea what she was saying. It all came out as a rush as she mounted her pleasure… closer, closer…_

_He took her to the floor, and his mouth found hers, and she tasted her salt on his tongue. He thrust a finger into her – into a place she'd never had anyone touch before, not even her own hand – and it was wicked and oh-so-lovely. He bit and lapped at her nipples, and he rubbed between her slit… Oh, God, he rubbed and it felt so wonderful! _

_Red fire was everywhere – in her sight, in her mouth, in her mind and heart. It enveloped her, blinded her, left her struggling for breath, and drove her towards a beautiful climax that, when it threw her off the edge and into bliss, shattered and remade her all at once. She thought she screamed, but couldn't be sure. _

_In the panting aftermath, her mind only had one thought: Draco Malfoy, her childhood nemesis, had just given her the greatest pleasure she'd ever known – and he'd held tight to her like a true lover through it all. _

That part had been so incredible, but very quickly, she realized that her partner had not found his own satisfaction, and that was when things had changed between them…

_She opened her eyes, as weak, warm and satisfied as a small kitten lounging before a springtime window, to see Draco kneeling in front of her. His hands shook and his face was a mask of eager, dark hunger. His shirt had been torn open and he was removing his trousers and pants in a hurried shoving action, throwing them to the side when they cleared his ankles, even as he toed off his shoes. Naked from the waist down, the solid, weeping length of his manhood was exposed to her for the first time, and there was a moment of panic at the size of him. She froze with icy fear as the red fire that had glazed her vision was quite suddenly extinguished._

"_No, don't do this," she pleaded, reaching out to grip his wrists to stop him, even as his hands grabbed her hips and tilted them up. He hadn't replied, hadn't halted in his intentions – hadn't seemed to hear her at all._

_Shifting between her legs, pulling her thighs apart, he speared towards her feminine center, driving the __rounded, wet end of him to her entrance. There was an awkward moment of pressure as he pushed into her small opening and then he surged forward with a roll of his hips, embedding his _thing_ into her, his forward glide smooth and resolute. "Draco, no! God, stop… STOP!" she cried out, hurting from his size, terrified by the fact that he wasn't respecting her wishes. She dug her fingernails into his skin with some measure of violence, but it didn't seem to interrupt his concentration. Relentlessly, he went deeper. _

_Her innocent flesh stretched as it parted open for him, and she felt the sharp pinch as her hymen surrendered. He moaned her name as she was utterly filled by the thick, steel length of him, until it was impossible to take more and their pelvises married, and he was finally, fully sheltered within her body to the hilt. He was pressing against the entrance to her womb, and it _hurt.

_Without pause or gentleness, the broad, heavy weight of him began moving in and out of her small channel at a ruthless pace that was set for his pleasure. She clawed at his torso for purchase – anywhere she could reach - as his pounding became rougher, faster. He moaned in satisfaction with each thrust, his eyelids shut as he experienced what looked to be unparalleled sexual ecstasy; t__he angles of his face were oddly shadowed, but filled with a frenzied, joyful wonder. _

_Hermione bit her bottom lip, tasting the coppery salt of blood between her teeth, moaning and grunting from the pain. God, wasn't it supposed to get better? She'd heard Lavender talk in blushing, happy giggles about it with Parvati and Padma last year when Seamus had taken her roommate's virginity. Lavender had said it felt good after a few seconds, but this… it wasn't feeling any better._

_Oh, please, she thought, let it stop hurting soon! _

_She __looked down between them, stunned, to watch his hips buck and withdraw, slam forward and pull back. Over and over again, brutal and hard he came into her, and there was absolutely no pleasure, only a terrible ache in her pelvis. Dark red virgin blood was smeared across both of their pale hips. _

_She drifted on a sea of numbness. Tears blurred her vision. __Malfoy bent over her, pressed their foreheads together, his breath blasting across her face as he panted for air. He captured her mouth and her nipples with his lips, never slowing in his rhythm, giving a bit back even as he took all. __Her heart squeezed in response and she pleaded with him one last time to stop. _

"_You're hurting me! Please, no more!"_

_Her begging fell on deaf ears. _

"_Oh, Christ! I'm coming!" he instead shouted, shifting his hold to grab the firm globes of her backside and pull her even tighter into him, assuring a snug fit as his pace increased again. It didn't take long. A couple of thrusts, and he called her name, shouting in rapture as his hot semen shot deep inside her womb. She actually felt it – the strange, warm liquid spurting into her. _

_That it was finally over was of small relief. The reality that she'd been conquered by Draco Malfoy - in every way – was a sickening dread that sank into her belly__**. **__She began to cry, even as he fell across her, exhausted and gasping for air, his hammering, erratic heartbeat marking out a strong rhythm that did not match hers in the least. _

But it hadn't ended then. There had been the painful aftermath – the confrontation. Hermione had struck back at him with hateful words, wanting to hurt him as he had done her. She knew now in reflection, that he hadn't realized how violent he'd been with her, though.They'd both gotten caught up in the feelings of the moment, and the truth was that neither had considered the ramifications of their actions – neither physical nor emotional - until after the fact.

_"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I… I love you."_

She huddled against her bent knees, buying her face in her arms and cried again remembering Draco's tender, sincere confession.

It was all wrong; she shouldn't feel this sad, as if she was in mourning. She should be furiously angry. He'd taken advantage of her mixed-up emotions, jumping her when she hadn't been prepared, pressing his intentions. She wanted to hate him, wanted to forget.

But she couldn't. The thought of doing so, of rejecting him made her want to tear her own heart out.

What was happening to her? How was it possible to feel this… this… _deep connection_ to the boy she'd reviled for so long? How could she forget her feelings for Ron – albeit quickly fading ones – in favor of someone equally as questionable as Draco? And would her friends consider her a traitor for having such affection for the boy who had bullied them for years?

Oh, Godric – her friends! No, they could never, _ever _know what had transpired today! They wouldn't understand! She was going to have to lie to them… just as she was going to have to conceal these feelings she had for Malfoy.

The combination of gnawing guilt and screaming denial became a crushing monster in her mind and chest with that thought.

Why did this hurt so much? She hated this weakness where Slytherin's King Snake was concerned; hated that she wanted him to hold her again, as he had that night when he'd shared his coat with her – close to his heart, surrounded by his warmth. Hated that she wished he'd look at her again as he had in the Library when he'd snuck that kiss – with a charming mix of trepidation and eager intention. Hated that she desired him to touch her as he had earlier today - when he'd driven her to heights of mad pleasure, just as he had back then…

Back then? What?

Where had that thought come from?

Her head started throbbing, signaling a sudden, on-coming migraine. She recognized the signs, having had them on and off this year, especially after studying too hard or when she went without sleep for too long – basically, when her mind was exhausted. Rubbing her temples with her fingertips, she tried to massage away the pain, all the while attempting to banish the memories of Draco's lusty voice whispering dark temptations in her ear…

_"Say my name, Hermione. I need to hear it."_

"_Say my name, Hermione…"_

"_Say my name…"_

"…_my name…"_

"_Hermione..."_

A slash of sharp pain shot up the back of her neck and spiked into her skull.

"_You look better with your hair pulled back from your face, you know."_

That last came out of the black depths of her mind. Where had she heard Malfoy say that to her before? He hadn't said it today. He hadn't said it to her at any time she could remember off the top of her head. Yet, she knew that sometime within the last two and a half months, he had in fact said such a thing to her.

As her sobs had quieted into soft hiccupping and the occasional sniffle, she looked down at her waterlogged toes, and determined that it was time to get out of the shower. Aside from the whole pruning thing, her head was pounding and she really needed to get back to her dorm room so she could pop two of the Muggle analgesics she'd smuggled into her trunk at the start of term; she preferred them for her periods or for just such an occasion as this over Madam Pomfrey's foul-tasting head potions. Then, she decided that she'd change into a fresh, clean uniform, tossing the one she'd worn today into the laundry, head down to the Kitchens to grab a bite to eat to avoid the Great Hall, and afterwards, head to her next class with her chin up and her spine straight. Her Gryffindor heart refused to let what had happened to her today send her cowering to her bed to hide out. There was work to do - notes to take, papers to write, Prefect duties to finish-up. Keeping busy would help her cope.

And she vowed that she'd henceforth, steadfastly ignore Draco Malfoy.

Standing on shaky legs, she gripped the ceramic soap shelf for a hand-up…

In a flash of scorching, white light, sudden pain beyond any she'd ever experienced overloaded all of her nerve endings. Her eyes rolled back into her head, blinding detonations exploded behind her eyelids, and she jerked with seizure, falling down the wall to land on her side on the tile floor.

Images flashed through her mind at a speed that left her nauseous and panting for air: colored bubbles dancing across bath water; Draco casting non-verbal spells at a closed door with practiced ease; walking through the grey, autumn rain back to the castle; her hand gently exploring Malfoy's smooth, toned chest; the black outline of a skull and snake tribal sigil – the Dark Mark - inked onto the inside of a pale arm; an embroidered silk handkerchief being passed into her hand; flipping through pages in one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books to find the exact words and ritual required to cast his Forgetfulness Charm; holding up a red ribbon to watch it dance with captivating fire.

"_I knew it would be like this with you… Hermione…"_

Her last coherent thought was that Draco was calling to her for help, and she needed to go to him.

**X~~~~~X**

It was cool and dark when Hermione awoke in a familiar bed in Hogwart's Hospital Wing. It was obviously night time and the room was hush-hush quiet. She gingerly sat up, rubbing the ache on the side of her head. The good news was her flash migraine was gone; the bad news was that she had a tender bump on her scalp where she'd fallen in the shower and had a slight headache from that instead.

What time was it? What _day_ was it?

She sought out the luminescent Sandkeeper on the wall above the Wing's entrance doors. It marked out that it was currently half past eleven p.m. on November the eleventh. So, same day as when she'd taken her fall, but almost twelve hours later.

Contemplating all that had happened, trying to make sense and order of her situation, she realized that she now remembered everything from the past two months, including those missing days in September that she had believed had been lost due to amnesia. Apparently, she'd actually overcome Lockhart's Memory Charm – which confirmed her hypothesis from so long ago that it had been an excellent spell, as it _had_ worked exactly as promised. The problem was that it had come up against some powerful magical enchantment that evidently was hell-bent and determined to get Hermione together with her Slytherin nemesis. At least, that was her new theory.

But what was that enchantment, which obviously had something to do with that weird red aura she'd seen each time she and Malfoy got… well, freaky (as Ginny would term it)?

Draco…

The odd attraction to him now also made sense to her. A switch had clicked on in her head with the release of her memories from the spell, and she was finally able to put together the pieces of his cryptic and misleading statements over the past eight weeks. Untangling the lies from the half-truths became an easy thing. Now she understood why she'd been so drawn to him recently: they'd been physical before, on the night of her birthday. No, not just that… there had been emotion behind it, too. The strange enchantment had somehow bound them up together, but he'd earned her trust when he'd backed off upon her request, not pushing to take things further then. To her surprise, he'd even offered to make what they were doing a more serious thing.

"_We'll take it slow from now on."_

Then she'd accidentally discovered the Dark Mark upon his arm, and that had blown everything up. She'd used Lockhart's dark spell on her own memories (without realizing the true nature of the magic at the time, recognizing it now only in retrospect) to forget those few days because the knowledge was too painful for her to bear, and she was torn in her duty to report Draco to the Headmaster versus her budding feelings for him.

But the heart never forgot, it seemed, even when the mind had.

Did remembering the past change anything, though? The events of today had still happened. She couldn't take them back. Draco was still a Death Eater, and therefore untrustworthy, no matter how her body and heart craved him. As for that, she assumed she was under the influence of some powerful enchantment where he was concerned, too. Had he cast it on her, and if so, why? Shouldn't she hate Draco for what he had done to her? She should tell someone about him. And what about her feelings for Ron, which were now terribly conflicted?

Her head ached, so she decided to lie back down and give it a rest. Perhaps tomorrow she would gain some clarity.

With a sigh, her head hit the pillow and she was out less than a minute later. Her dreams consisted of reliving the sexual pleasure she'd found in Draco's arms, even as she watched dark, inky shadows creep through his silvery eyes, turning them near black.

**X~~~~~X**

Professor Dumbledore was sitting at her side the next morning. His smile was bright and his eyes twinkled with relief upon seeing her crack open her lids. "Ah, Miss Granger! I'm so glad you're awake. We've all been quite worried about you."

She couldn't help the pleased smile that wound its way across her face; Dumbledore's cheerfulness was infectious. "I'm sorry for any worry I've caused, Headmaster."

He shook his head in dismissal. "Worrying after my students is my job, after all." He nodded to the table to her left. "I understand your friends stayed with you until the Wing closed yesterday. They left you get-well presents." The small table was covered with cards and a few small gift boxes and bags. She brightened considerably at the sight, once more reminded of what good friends she truly had. Dumbledore patted her hand and stood to leave. "Well, I really should be getting back to my duties now," he stated. "There's always so much to do around here, you know."

She snaked out and grabbed a hold of his sleeve to halt his going, knowing at that moment where her duty lie and determined to do the right thing. He turned and gave her a surprised stare. "Yes, my dear? What is it?"

She choked on the words as they rushed out of her mouth. "Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater."

Dumbledore said nothing. His stare was calculating and direct as he appraised her. Would he challenge her pronouncement? She worried. How would she defend such knowledge of Draco without divulging their personal relationship issues? Her stomach twisted in knots under his assessment, but she stood her ground.

After more than a minute thus, Dumbledore simply nodded. "Yes, Miss Granger, I know." His voice was very soft, almost sad.

Her pulse leapt in her throat. "Sir?"

He glanced about to make sure they were really alone, flicked the wand in his wrist, and Hermione felt a spell tingle on the air. She assumed it was a privacy charm of some sort, given the topic of conversation. "Do you remember the last time I visited you in the Hospital, Miss Granger?" She nodded. "I've known all about you and Mr. Malfoy since that time."

Her cheeks flashed hot, and she looked down at the covers in severe embarrassment.

He sat down in the chair again at her side, his hands in his lap. "I'm very sorry, but I was worried that certain lines might have been forcibly crossed, given the extent of your uncharacteristic emotional distress. After all, this school is not a single-gender environment, and we've had our share of such… problems… over the years. I wanted to make sure that you hadn't been hurt."

"You used a form of Legilimancy on me, you mean," she deduced.

The bottom of his long, white beard tucked and crinkled against his blue robes as he indicated agreement. "I apologize for that, truly, Miss Granger. I didn't want to put you through another ordeal and cause you additional discomfort. It was the best and quickest way to get the information Madam Pomfrey and I needed to assure we took steps to prevent any… unanticipated complications… in time, if necessary."

Hermione's hands shook and she gripped the blanket to keep them steady. He was talking about pregnancy. She hadn't even thought of that possibility! Could she be carrying Draco's child right now? She knew from having read up on the subject that conception could occur within twenty-four hours, if she'd been ovulating at the time. And there hadn't been any precautions taken on her side. She was sure Malfoy hadn't considered them either, as she didn't recall any sort of spells cast to prevent conception.

Where was she in her cycle right now? She'd just finished her period last Friday… She counted the days. No, not ovulating yet. Too close, though not to consider it had been possible if her body was out of rhythm from all of the stress she'd been under.

Oh, Godric, what if she'd conceived?

Dumbledore's hand over hers was warm and soothing. "Miss Granger, you look very pale. Shall I send for Poppy?"

Hermione was mortified by the entire situation. What would the Headmaster say if he knew about yesterday afternoon? She had to tell someone in authority her fears about a possible pregnancy, but she felt too humiliated to confide in Professor Dumbledore any further; he was like her elderly grandfather to her, for Merlin's sake!

She'd just have to call for Madam Pomfrey when the Professor left. The woman was a medical practitioner sworn to uphold patient privacy, and she was sure that the school nurse had seen her share of this sort of thing over the long years. After all, Dumbledore had intimated that there had been the occasional non-consensual sex at school over the long years, so surely the resident Healer had in stock some sort of 'morning-after' potion for such emergencies.

"It's nothing, sir," she exaggerated, feeling a stab of guilt. "I just hadn't considered that possibility. It's scary."

He nodded and patted her hand with a fatherly affection. "Yes, I'm sure it is."

"So, you learned about Malfoy being the Dark Lord's servant by using magic on me back in September," Hermione restated, particularly bothered by this nugget of information. "Sir, if I may ask: why haven't you done anything about it?"

The Headmaster seemed to expect this question. "Because, Miss Granger, I do not believe Mr. Malfoy is evil. He is acting out of fear of his Master's wrath. I do not honestly think he will be able to complete whatever task it is that Voldemort has sent him here to do."

Hermione carefully chose her next words. "I don't think Draco is evil either. Conflicted, yes, but not evil."

Dumbledore's gaze bore into hers, as if attempting to drag meaning from her statement. At last, he gave her a small smile. "That's good, Miss Granger, because I feel young Mr. Malfoy is going to need a caring, brave and _strong_ heart near him this year."

Her cheeks were absolutely scalding now. She lowered her eyes to the bed sheets again, unsure of how to reply. Dumbledore thankfully relieved her of that burden when he stood again and made to leave once more. "I'll tell Poppy to attend you," he offered. "She'll excuse you from your classes today and tomorrow. Take the opportunity to rest up and regain your strength." He reached out and fingered a small, dark green box on the bedside table. "Oh, and I want you to turn over your Prefect duties to Miss Patil for the next two weeks. That will give you time to catch up on your studies."

She nodded with chagrin. "Yes, sir."

He threw her a parting smile and left. Immediately, Madam Pomfrey was at her side with her emergency bag and wand in hand.

Now came the hard part…

**X~~~~~X**

An hour later, Hermione was lightly resting off the nauseous effects of a foul-tasting Contraceptive Draught. It would take care of any problem of "possible fertilization," Madam Pomfrey guaranteed. She'd promised Hermione full secrecy on the issue, as well.

As she lay in the cot, staring at the far wall, she cringed. 'Fertilization' - what a horrible word. It made her feel like a brood mare, and it described what had happened between her and Draco as somehow dispassionate, cold, when it had been anything but. That perturbed her.

She sighed and sat up, modestly covering her hospital gown with the bed's woolen blanket, just in case someone walked in unannounced. Glancing over at the bedside table, she noted the plethora of gifts and thought she could do with some cheer right then. Reaching for a card randomly, the first one she grabbed was from Luna Lovegood. It was hand-drawn and colored with sparkles and rainbows. She laughed at the salutation inside:

_**Dear Hermione,**_

_**I hope you get well soon! I've charmed your hospital bed against pesky Ehdis. They won't disturb your sleep now, so rest easy!**_

_**Love, Luna**_

Ehdis… hadn't she mentioned before that Malfoy was similarly afflicted by them? What kind of wacky, invented creature were they, she wondered? Knowing Luna, they were probably some sort of sparkly fairies that sprinkled magic dust on you and took over your love life, or something equally as ridiculous. Still, it was a kind thought on Luna's part to care enough to fake a charm to protect her against her imaginary monsters, and the card she'd made was quite adorable. She'd keep this one for always in her scrap book.

She reached for the next card. This one was made of parchment paper folded in half. It was decorated with magical runes and swirls in green and red ink. It was from Padma Patil.

_**Hermione,**_

_**Get well soon so I can have a partner for Prefect duty again! Walking the halls alone is boring!**_

_**Cheers, Padma**_

Even though Padma's twin sister, Parvati, was best friends with bogey-faced Lavender Brown, and the girl was smitten with the absurd subject of Divination, she was still a very nice person. Hermione had great respect for her character, and thought her a solid choice for Prefect.

She reached over to pick up the next card, but instead picked up the box that Professor Dumbledore had bemusedly fingered earlier. The box had no bow or note attached. There was no special lettering on the outside to indicate where it had come from, either. Who could have sent this to her?

Her hands shook as she opened the lid and spied what lay, wound-up in a tight coil and neatly nestled inside: it was her birthday present from Malfoy. She picked up the beautiful, incredibly rare and valuable red ribbon and held it up to the light, mesmerized once more with its fiery shimmer. Her breath was literally stolen by its beauty.

"_It's made from Kirin's mane, woven by the High Fae."_

Draco must have come to visit sometime in the very early morning to drop this off, as he wouldn't have wanted anyone to see him visiting her, she was sure. Had he stood over her bed, watching her sleep? Had he reached out his hand to touch her hair or face or hand? The thought was wishful agony, followed closely by suffocating guilt. She wasn't supposed to think about Malfoy that way, no matter her diminished feelings for Ron. He was a Death Eater – the enemy! He… he…

Lying back in the bed, holding the ribbon to her face, she pressed her nose to its soft surface and inhaled. It smelled strongly of Draco's cologne – bergamot and amber. It also brought wounding memories back to the forefront of her consciousness.

_"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I… I love you."_

Exhausted, mentally at the end of her rope, she fell back to sleep letting her tears stain her pillow.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER FIFTEEN:**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

"_**Cut" by Plumb**_** (Hermione's thoughts about herself and Draco)**


	16. Ch 16: Seeking Forgiveness

**Chapter Sixteen: Seeking Forgiveness**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**November 11-13, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year) **_

After he'd cried his heart to stone and emptied it of all feeling, Draco dragged his tired, weary body off of the cold floor, cleaned up with a _Scourgify_ and hastily redressed, wanting to get out of this cursed room and escape what he'd done here.

Gathering his satchel by the door, he hurried out and down to the dungeon, catching no eye and speaking to no one, rudely brushing past crowds of hungry students gathering in the entrance of the Great Hall for supper. Rushing to the cellar, the only individual he gave recognition to was The Bloody Baron in the form of a respectful nod as they passed each other in the dimly lit corridor. Draco knew from rumor that it was not wise to show rudeness to this particular ghost, for the Baron had a reputation for creating night terrors that haunted the living when it suited his fancy. The ghost morosely returned his acknowledgement and moved on down the corridor, spectral chains rattling about him.

Entering his House's common room, he completely ignored Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, who were sitting on the communal couches deep in conversation, and directly made his way to the men's showers instead.

Locking the door behind, he threw his bag to the bench and his clothes off, entered a stall and turned on the water. Palms pressed to the tile, he bent his head, letting the spray hit the back of his neck, not caring that it hadn't warmed up yet. He stood like that for long minutes, trying to shut out the returning memories that seemed to want to haunt him.

"_No, don't do this!" _

"_Draco, no! God, stop… STOP!"_

_"You're hurting me! Please, no more!"_

He let out a hitched sob, rubbing at his chest with one hand.

He'd raped her. Oh, Merlin, he'd really done it, hadn't he? This wasn't just one of The Baron's bad dreams. He wasn't going to wake up tomorrow and know that he was still safely tucked behind _that line_ – the one a man should never cross with a woman. He'd done the unthinkable.

"_How could you have done that to me, Malfoy? How could you?"_

He reached for the soap, desperate to scrub the evil off of him.

Half an hour later, when his skin was raw and he'd scoured every inch of his body, Draco emerged dripping from the stall. He dried his hair and limbs, and started to reach for his pants, but changed his mind about getting redressed in the clothes he'd worn earlier. Instead, he folded his towel around his hips, collected his things and walked to his dorm room. Retrieving his favorite ribbon from the inner pocket of his trousers, he placed it under his pillow for safekeeping, and then he tossed his shoes, belt and book bag to the floor next to his bed and his wand on top of his trunk. The rest of his dirty clothes were thrown down the laundry chute.

"Hey, mate," Blaise greeted from the doorway, sauntering in and heading for his kit.

Draco grunted in reply. He really didn't feel like talking at that moment.

"Sweet scars," Zabini commented, pointing to the crisscrossing red scratches and half-moon ridges that scored Draco's back, shoulders, arms, and hips. "Who's the lucky bird?"

The marks had come from Hermione's nails in her attempts to fight him off this afternoon.

He gave his roommate a flat, serpentine stare and turned on him, letting his anger ride. "What's it to you? Looking to score sloppy seconds?"

Blaise held out his hands, palms outward in warding. "Sorry, guy. No need to get so hacked-off. No insult intended."

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, suddenly feeling very tired and much older, but that wasn't going to knock him off his guard. There was never anything innocent about any Slytherin, especially Zabini, who was Draco's best mate for all intents and purposes. True, his friend had never personally gone viper on him, keeping his secrets through the years and proving his loyalty. Hell, he even knew about Draco taking the Dark Mark, as living together in a small dormitory space made it relatively impossible to hide such a thing. But still, the guy had been known in the past to ruin the reputations of those he'd considered his enemies. If he discovered the truth about Draco falling for Gryffindor's Princess, it could cause serious trouble in more ways than one.

He thought up a quick lie in explanation, hoping to deflect further inquiry. "Some fourth year salt. She didn't want to give it another go - said her arse was too sore. Fucking juvvie." The less said, the more believable the lie, he knew, so he left it at that, turning to the wardrobe to fetch some fresh clothes. "Leave it, right?"

Blaise shrugged. "Sure, no prob." He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against one of the wooden columns of his bedframe. "So, did you hear about Granger?" he asked, snickering.

Draco felt his gut clench at the mention of her name, but he kept his voice carefully neutral. Turning his back on his friend, he shrugged on a pair of pants and slid some casual slacks over them. Picking up his wet towel from where it had fallen to the floor, he tossed that, too, down the laundry chute. "No, what did Miss Know-It-All do this time?"

"She fainted in the Prefect's Bath," he smirked. "Pansy found her on the floor in the showers. Our Queen Snake turned right around and left her there – can you believe it?" He had a wicked grin on his face, as if he'd just told the joke of the year. "Another Prefect found her an hour later and took her to the Hospital Wing."

Draco was enraged. Inside, he wanted to pop that smirk right off of Zabini's face and then follow it up by throwing Pansy Parkinson into the Black Lake for the resident squid to snack on. Outside, he knew he couldn't act any different than normal or his roomie would figure out his secrets right quick. The guy had already been privy to the incident in Potions Lab this morning – Draco teaming with Granger - so it wouldn't be too hard to put it together if he suddenly went around defending her honor. To throw off the scent, he chose a very Slytherin way out of the predicament: subterfuge.

"Good one! I'll have to _reward_ Pans for that later," he leered.

His roommate threw him a sinful smirk. "Tap her for me while you're at it."

"Fuck off," Draco countered, flipping his friend the two-fingered salute.

Blaise's grin was positively wicked. "I'd rather fuck _her_. I like screamers. Hey, when you've had enough of the ol' pug face, let me know, yeah?"

Draco felt disgust at the thought. The things he and Pansy had done over the past eight months had been both mind-blowing and sickening at the same time. The girl enjoyed being punished and dominated, and she'd shag just about anywhere - and in any way you wanted. Draco had enjoyed it at first, but soon realized that he didn't roll that way; he was more vanilla in his sexual sadism. He hadn't slept with her since term began.

He absently waved over his shoulder, as if swatting away an annoying fly. "Fuck it, I take it back. She doesn't interest me anymore. She's yours."

Zabini's grin stretched from ear to ear, like he'd just won the lottery. "Really? Thanks, mate. I'll just go get started on that now, then, yeah?" With that, the tall, dark wizard turned and marched back down to the common area, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of what was to come.

Draco made a note to seal off his bed tonight. He didn't care to hear Parkinson's shrill screeching as she took it up the riz later.

He sat on his bed half-dressed, leaning his arms on his thighs, and considered what Zabini had just told him. Hermione had obviously been traumatized more severely than even he'd realized. The thought of her crying alone in the showers, to the point of passing out from the stress… He held his head in his hands, and for the hundredth time that day, asked himself how he could have lost such control. He wondered how he could have hurt Granger so much, and again at the idea that he loved her. How had _any _of it happened?

The darker side that he'd recognized earlier today, he knew that _it_ was responsible for causing Hermione's pain. And he felt that it was growing stronger in him the more time passed.

He stared down at the Dark Mark on his arm, careful not to touch it, not wanting to open a channel between him and the Dark Lord. _It's because of this fucking thing that I hurt her_, he thought with disgust, instinctively knowing it to be true. Voldemort's evil had somehow leeched through the Mark and corrupted him, despite his advanced proficiency in Occlumency.

Had this happened to his father, as well? Could that be why the old man was such a right bastard? For the first time, he seriously considered that possibility.

It was true that throughout his life, Draco's father had never truly shown sincere affection for him; that had been his mother's job. In public, Lucius Malfoy had been dashingly fashionable, socially proper, regally confident, and a powerful figure of authority. Behind closed doors, he'd been _harshly_ critical of his only son at every turn.

Draco shuddered as he remembered being a six-year-old and flogged with his father's horse whip simply for asking why Mudbloods were bad people. He'd been locked in his room without meals for two days thereafter. That's when he'd first learned to use magic…

_He was starving and he wanted to escape. _

_Draco stood in front of his bedroom door and concentrated on the lock. "Let go," he thought over and over again, as if his silent will could alone force a physical object to move. To his surprise, the lock rattled once, and then clicked open. _

_Was someone coming in? _

_He ran and scrambled under the bed, peeking out from a small hole he made by lifting one edge of the mattress skirt. No one immediately entered, to his relief. _

_After a few minutes of waiting, he returned to the door and tried the handle. It turned! As stealthily as possible, he opened it and poked his head out, glancing both ways down the corridor. Spying no one in sight and convinced that his break for freedom would go undetected, he made his way down to the kitchen on tiptoe, slyly creeping past open doorways and sticking to shadows. _

_Having arrived to his destination with none the wiser, he looked about. On the island counter there was half a wheel of cheese. Dark purple wax covered its outer edge and top but left the blended green and cream-colored, meaty center exposed. Being tall for his age, Draco easily reached up and pinched off a piece, shoving it into his mouth. Mmmm… Sage Derby! One of his favorites at the parties his parents occasionally threw._

_Next, he reached for a roll in the bread box, shoving it down his mullet as well. He was stretching for an apple in the fruit bowl when he heard a gasp behind him. Jumping away guiltily, he turned to see a house-elf standing in the kitchen entry, carrying an empty tray. Before he could speak, she magically popped away. _

_Oh, no! She would report him to his father! _

_Terrified, Draco ran back to his room, locking the door behind him, and hid once more under the bed. He waited and waited, the dread knotting his stomach up, his eyes glued to the door. It seemed forever before the handle turned, and in stepped his sire. In his left hand was his favorite cane. Would he use that on Draco this time, instead of the whip? _

"_Draco, come here," Lucius commanded. _

_He knew better than to be openly insubordinate, so he shuffled out of his hiding place and stood before his father, head bent in terror. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what was to come._

"_How did you open this door?" his father demanded. "And do not think to lie to me when you answer, boy."_

_Draco swallowed. "I-I-I just asked it to open."_

_There was a pause from his father, as if the answer had been unexpected. "You 'asked it' to open? How exactly did you achieve that?"_

_He began to tremble. Would his father just hit him already, and be done with it? "I kept thinking over and over again that I wanted it to open… and it did."_

_There was a loud gasp and Draco winced, expecting the cane to come down on his head. "You manifested magic at such a young age?" his father seemed astounded. "Incredible!"_

_He chanced a glance up. His father was clearly dumbfounded. Then, the man actually smiled. It was a bright expression that stretched across his face from ear to ear. "A prodigy! I knew it!" He sounded exhilarated, and leaned out the door. "Narcissa, come up here at once!" His yell echoed down the corridor._

_In less than a minute, Draco's mother was at his chambers, too, out of breath from clearly having run to her husband's side. She wore a beautiful dark green and black silk dress, and her long hair was tied back in its usual matronly bun. "What is it, Lucius? What's happened?" She was scared. Draco didn't like his mother sounding like that._

_His father pointed at him. "The boy used magic!" _

_Narcissa stared wide-eyed down at her son. "Are you sure?" she hesitantly asked._

"_Tell her," his father commanded him, proudly smirking._

_Draco gazed back up at his mother. "I… just asked the door to open with my mind and it did."_

_His mother was incredulous, her eyes grown as round as tea saucers. "He used a non-verbal spell without a wand? How can this be, Lucius? He's only six!"_

_The man nodded. "I know, Narcissa. He's a genius!" _

_His hand came down on Draco's head and he patted him affectionately. "Our son - a powerful, pureblood wizard! Won't the others be jealous!" His father's eyes were suddenly alight with a dark fire. "He'll be a valuable addition to the cause."_

_Draco dropped his gaze to the floor once more, feeling strangely pleased with the turn of events. Tears filled his eyes with tremendous relief. In that instant, he forgave his father's brutality – would continue to forgive him anything - just so long as Lucius would look on him with such adoration forever._

He shook his mind from such naïve reflection. What a fool he'd been to crave his father's attention in any manner! It would have been better to remain unremarkable, for his father had spent the remainder of Draco's young childhood attempting to 'cultivate his talent' through a combination of subtle manipulation, wounding criticism and terrifying physical and magical punishment.

_"__Malfoys marry for status, wealth and blood purity - never for feeling," _the man had once explained to him. Apparently, they also had children for the same reason.

Remembering the diabolical look in his father's eyes that night, Draco resentfully acknowledged now that it hadn't been love that had motivated Lucius to care for him over all the years, but hubris. He'd been little more than his father's crusade to prove his own pureblood superiority. The revelation left him embittered.

But now that he assessed all he knew, had that predilection been the fault of Lucius' association with Lord Voldemort? Had the Dark Mark corrupted his father, turning him into some kind of cruel taskmaster? Or had that penchant been a result of whom and what the man really was at his core? Draco had a feeling it had been a little of both. His paternal grandfather, Abraxas, hadn't seemed the epitome of filial benevolence when he'd been alive, and if he'd been a betting man, Draco would have put his money on their relationship closely mirroring the one he had with Lucius. The sins of the father never fell far from origin, after all.

Regardless of its source, where had that great Malfoy pride gotten his father? A one-way ticket to Azkaban, that's where. Worse, his father was really little more than a puppet and slave to the Dark Lord now - a servant who was thought of as being little better than a house-elf at the moment. If the man hadn't been a jackarse before their meeting, being in the service of Voldemort during the First Wizarding War certainly had cost him his compassion, the ability to form meaningful attachments, and even his pride. It had cost him the adoration of his son, not to mention the love and respect of his wife, for Draco knew his mother was repelled by his father. He'd seen her shudder when the man bent to kiss her cheek, recognized the fear in her eyes when Lucius would storm about in a tirade, and create reasons not to be alone with her partner. She'd been very careful to try to hide these things from Draco, but he had spent years observing the play between his parents, and you can never truly hide the truth from those who love you the most.

He looked back down at the Dark Mark tattooing his body, thought of how badly he'd hurt Hermione, and felt a disgust so great that he wanted to cut off his own arm. He was following faithfully along in dear, old dad's footsteps, wasn't he? More than anything, he didn't want to end up cynical, hateful, and completely powerless like Lucius, though.

It was time to get out, while he still could, before the madness in him took over. But who could he turn to for help? He mentally went through his list of associates. Severus Snape? No, he didn't completely trust his godfather, whose loyalties were known only to the man himself. Nor did he trust Dumbledore or any of the teachers here at school. They'd probably haul him up in front of the Wizengamot for trial if they knew what he'd been sent to school this year to do. His friends here in Slytherin, then? Not a chance in hell. Most of them thought his joining the Death Eaters was cool. Gits, the lot of them. His mother? Yes, that seemed right. She would never let him come to harm. She genuinely loved him.

In a second, it was decided: he would go to his mother as soon as possible, tell her everything, beg for her help. There was a Hogsmeade retreat this weekend. He'd owl her to come meet him in the village. She'd know what to do from there.

He jumped off his bed, finished dressing in his favorite dark grey hooded sweatshirt, socks and a pair of expensive, dark street trainers. He may have despised Muggles in the mob sense, but he certainly didn't mind some of their influences.

Pulling a piece of parchment, his quill and an ink pot out of his book bag, he wrote a hasty note to his mother, asking her to meet him this weekend. He then stole an envelope out of Crabbe's trunk, and addressed and sealed it to her at the Manor House.

While he was rooting around in Vincent's stuff, Draco also came across a small, dark green box that contained a present from the boy's mummy: a limited edition "Nicolas Flamel" chocolate frog card. He dumped the card out, and swiped the box with an idea in mind. He reached for the ribbon under his pillow, folded it up and put it in the gift box, intending upon visiting the Hospital Wing later, after lights-out. He _would_ find a way to apologize to Hermione. He _would_ make her hear him. Even if she never forgave him, or never wore the ribbon in her hair, or never spoke another word to him, he knew he had to do this. He may very well be murdered for betraying Voldemort, but before that he intended on telling Hermione that he loved her, and that _because_ of his love for her, he was not an evil, selfish, cold-hearted bastard like his father.

Grabbing his coat, he put the box in an inner-most pocket, zipping it shut, and made his way back down through the common room. Zabini and Pansy were conspicuously missing. He crossed over, heading back through the dungeon into the Entrance Hall. He passed the noise of the dining room, and made for the Owlry. After instructing Agrippa, his Eagle Owl, on the destination of his letter, he watched the creature glide away on silent wings, banking over the lake and heading south.

That done, he turned to go down to the Dining Hall to get something to eat. He still had another few hours of waiting before it would be safe to sneak out to see Hermione.

**X~~~~~X**

The next morning, Draco dragged his exhausted arse up to breakfast. He'd gotten up in the middle of the night and managed to slip through the hallways up to the Hospital Wing, where he'd placed Hermione's gift on the nightstand next to her bed during the night, hiding it among all the other small presents.

If only he hadn't let his curiosity get the better of him and actually read some of those cards her friends had written to her! The one from the Weasel had bothered him most of all…

_Hermione,_

_Please get well soon. I worry about you._

- _Ron_

Not a flowery declaration of love, but it was the sentiment that counted. He was sure that once Hermione woke-up and read the card, she would be dancing on rooftops and smiling bright rainbows believing that her would-be boyfriend had cared enough to send her _something_, no matter how platonic the gesture. Before he could crumple it up and toss it into the rubbish, Draco had put the card back on the table with the reminder that he was acting the part of an oak now and trying to turn over a new leaf.

He'd sat in a chair next to her bed for a few hours after that, just watching her breath in and out. Around four o'clock in the morning, she'd moaned once in what sounded to be pain, and he'd put his hand on her head soothingly, gently shushing her. Then, he'd kissed her cheek so softly it might have been no more than a trembling whisper against her skin, and he'd left, worried she'd awaken and start screaming to find him there.

He didn't think she'd come down to the Great Hall this morning, but he looked for her all the same. No dice - she didn't make an appearance. He looked for her again at lunch, but she was a no show then, too. By supper, Granger had still not put in an appearance and he worried for her health. However, he was abruptly distracted in his thoughts by his owl carrying a return letter from his mother. She'd agreed to meet up with him at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade at one o'clock on Saturday, the sixteenth. Taking the note outside and burning it with a quick _Incendio_, he felt trepidation at the plan, but was determined to go through with it.

After disposing of the message, he made his way up to the Hospital Wing. When he got to the ward, Madam Pomfrey was hidden in her office, out of sight of the door. He cautiously approached the entrance, making sure he stayed hidden, and listened. Hermione was awake and talking with Potter.

"I feel much better, Harry, thank you," she commented. "The Toothflossing Stringmints you left cheered me up."

Potter chuckled. "I thought they couldn't hurt. After all, you've been in here since yesterday without a toothbrush."

They shared a laugh and just the sound of her strong and even voice worked wonders on calming Draco. She didn't sound beat-down or sad, as he'd assumed she might; quite the opposite in fact. That courageous determination which earmarked every Gryffindor (and irritated every Slytherin) was on her side, and for once, Draco didn't resent its stubborn perseverance.

He left her to her conversation with Scarhead, intending on coming back that night again after lights-out.

**X~~~~~X**

Around one thirty in the morning, Draco tiptoed into the Hospital Wing again and made his way to Hermione's side. He sat in the same seat next to her bed and watched over her, occasionally rubbing at his tired eyes to keep awake. He was _so exhausted_, but he willingly burned his candle at both ends, as he figured that this would probably be the closest he'd be allowed to be near her ever again, and he wanted to drink in every detail of her while he still could.

Just as he cracked his jaw in a wide yawn and stretched, she rolled over, facing him. Like a deer in wandlight, he froze, holding his breath for a good minute before slowly releasing it. She hadn't woken up, thank Merlin.

Something red flickered from between her fingers and caught his eye. He focused on it and nearly went into cardiac arrest, giving away his position: she was holding onto the ribbon, sleeping with it next to her cheek.

Rationally, he knew Granger couldn't know who had given the magical hair ribbon to her, since she had no memory of him giving it to her the first time, but seeing her tightly holding onto his gift made his heart skip a beat and he smiled at the good omen.

His gaze flickered back to her face… and he almost fell back in his chair in shock.

Her eyes were open!

Shite, he was busted.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER SIXTEEN:**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

"**The Reason" by Hoobastank (Draco's thoughts about Hermione)**


	17. Ch 17: Mournful Goodbye

**Chapter Seventeen: Mournful Goodbye**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**November 13, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione was dreaming.

Draco was sitting next to her bed, a silver-haired, silver-tongued guardian angel, set to watch over her rest. He smiled down upon her slumbering form and for the first time in memory, his eyes were completely unguarded. In them was relayed a gentle warmth that beckoned her heart to open and her hand to reach for him.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the atmosphere abruptly changed.

Malfoy blinked, and with a flaring of his eyes in surprise, he violently jerked back and away. As his weight shifted, his chair tipped dangerously off-kilter onto its two back legs, threatening to dump him over. He wildly swung his arms in a windmill motion and caught his balance, however, realigning the equilibrium. A moment later, he surged forward with such force that the front legs of his chair hit the stone flooring with a loud _'boom'_, the sound mimicking the thunderous crack of Apparition.

Startled, Hermione sat straight up in bed, her heart thudding under her rib cage as she came to the disquieting realization that this was no dream. Slytherin's Prince was really here, at her bedside this very second!

Holding her breath until spots swam before her eyes, she met Malfoy's panicked gaze with a mirrored expression, as frozen in place as he, all of her senses on high alert. When, after a minute, Madam Pomfrey didn't appear to scold them, Hermione exhaled in relief. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded in an angry whisper. "If you get caught out of bed after lights-out, you'll be in trouble!"

Right, that wasn't exactly the same thing as reading him The Riot Act, but it was as sane a place to begin as any. She'd warm up to cursing him out.

Draco looked down at his knees, clearly flustered at being caught flat-footed in the compromising position of secretly babysitting her convalescence. He seemed to have a knock-down, drag-out internal fight to find the right words in which to make an appropriate response. "I came to see how you were," he finally settled, his voice neutral and _oh-so-careful_.

She raised an eyebrow in silent question, confused by his concern. "I'm better," she replied. As she glanced down at her lap, she noted her nightdress was showing, and with a small squeak, covered up with the dark green woolen blanket. After what had happened between them, it felt too awkward to be showing so much skin.

His approach continued to be very cautious. "Nice ribbon."

She looked down at the narrow strip of material she'd been clutching in her hand while she'd slept. "It's very beautiful," she acknowledged. With regret, she held it out to him. "But it's much too expensive a present. You should take it back, Draco."

Blanching, he pulled air through his teeth in astonishment. "What did you say?"

"Your birthday gift is too costly for me to accept."

The words held a double-meaning that she hoped he'd pick up on.

Dawning understanding impressed his features. His larynx bobbed in his throat as he swallowed and his breathing grew moderately panicked. The white-knuckled grip he maintained on his chair's arms anchored him to the spot, but she could read the desire to flee across the angles of his face. "Don't… don't say you remember," he entreated.

She was about to reply in the affirmative that she did exactly remember the events from her birthday eight weeks earlier, when his hand moved faster than she could track and gripped her wrist in an almost bruising hold. He had a wild, terror-stricken look to him. "Don't say you recall that night, Granger," he warned. "Or at least, never speak of it again. It never happened, right?"

She tried to extricate her wrist from his grip, but he would have none of it. He came and sat heavily upon the side of her bed, his face mere inches away. As he stared into her eyes, his gaze impressed upon her the weight of a sincere warning.

"I don't understand," she confided in a whisper, afraid that speaking louder might cause him to erupt in anger or worse.

"_He_ would kill you."

Hermione gasped, her own eyes going wide with sudden comprehension. Draco was referring to his Master, Voldemort. He was warning her that the Dark Lord would murder her if she acknowledged Draco's Death Eater status.

But, she'd already imparted the knowledge of Draco's new office to Professor Dumbledore! Was there a chance that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named would find out about her testimony?

No. That was simply a ridiculous assumption. It wasn't like she was going to post an article to _The Daily Prophet_ or anything! And it was preposterous to think that the Headmaster would go tattling to his arch-nemesis about Hermione's involvement in Draco's life.

Wait, there was still the possibility of the use of Legilimency, wasn't there? Was that what Draco was trying to say? Had Voldemort regularly quested Malfoy's mind now that he was the Dark Lord's servant? But if that were true, then she'd already be on the big hit list, right? Draco had certainly never forgotten what had happened in September between them; _she'd _been the one with the memory holes. So, how had he kept that information from his Master? Did he, perchance, know Occlumency already? If so, who had taught him?

A thought occurred: Draco was no dummy; he was smart enough to have already taken steps to assure his mind was protected or that the memories of their time together were being withheld somehow. Otherwise, he'd have been dead already for fraternizing with her 'Mudblood' self. That meant he was really concerned with the insecurity of _her_ mind. But what was the likelihood of her being psychically raped? She had no mental or magical connection with Voldemort, as Harry did, and she hadn't confided anything about her odd relationship with Draco to her best friend. That left only one avenue for the Dark Lord to have-at her memories: to physically get his hands on her.

She looked up into Malfoy's desperately concerned face and really considered the unknown future. After last year's battle in the Department of Mysteries, she knew the war had officially begun. As Harry's best friend, she also knew that made her a front line target. Voldemort would surely take an interest in her as a result. She trembled at the thought of his cold, reptilian hands on her, his menacing mind sifting through her most intimate secrets…

Lockhart's spell had been her method for hiding those memories and keeping them safe, but the repercussions to her had been quite negative. She wasn't sure she could make herself go through that again. Therefore, there was only one choice: she would have to learn Occlumency. And, she could never mention what she had seen and done on her last birthday aloud again, as it was too dangerous for anyone to definitively know Draco's Death Eater indoctrination. It was the only way to keep them both safe. The exception would be Dumbledore, of course, as the Professor was already privy to the information and she trusted him.

"I understand," she acceded with a nod to his silent behest.

Draco searched her face, apparently for some sign of deceit, but seeing none, he visibly relaxed, giving a shuddering sigh of relief. He leaned on one arm slung over her legs, careful not to touch her. "Good. That's… good," he replied.

An awkward pause of a long minute or two followed.

"It is a very pretty ribbon, though," she said, more to fill-up the space and at the same time, letting him know that she was thankful he'd let her have it back, even for a short while. She caressed the red fiery fabric between her fingers in appreciation.

Draco sat back, measuring her. "Granger, we need to talk."

The butterflies in her abdomen fluttered so hard and so fast that she thought she might be sick.

Of course he'd come here to talk to her about _that_. Why else would he be here?

"Will you hear me out?"

She nodded, uneasy, trying to calm her racing heart.

He sighed and shoved his long bangs back from his eyes in a gesture of discomfiture. She experienced instant, improper tactile recall at the motion, causing her stomach to flip again. She knew his white-blond hair to be silky and soft. She recalled how it had slid between her fingers, and how it had caressed the sensitive flesh between her legs as he'd dipped his mouth to her...

With a mental slap, Hermione forced her thoughts back to the here and now, willing her full concentration on the moment, and struggling to let go of the past.

"I never meant to hurt you," he began.

She fidgeted with the ribbon, twining it around her fingers, unraveling it, twirling again. Over and over, she repeated the motion. "You already said," she reminded him. He'd sold her on the same message after their sexual liaison. But did he mean it? Or was he just afraid she'd tell someone? She glanced through her lashes at him. He _seemed_ sincere. But this was Malfoy, and it was possible that this was all one big ploy to get her to shut up so his secret would be safe. She waited to gauge his response.

"And I meant it. I'm sorry," he rushed. His cheeks were suffused with red, and a frown marred his face.

Perhaps he was sincere. He certainly gave that impression. He was a good actor when dealing with antagonism, conceit and insolence, but not so much with abashed earnestness and awkwardness. He genuinely appeared to be a duck out of water right now.

Reaching out, Draco stopped her fidgeting with the ribbon. His fingers brushed across hers, and her heart leapt around in her chest as that strange, warm fire encircled them both again. It was low level, but definitely there, pulsing softly about their lightly touching hands. Did he see it, too?

He cleared his throat again, and his smoky gaze met hers. "But I need to tell you that I'm not sorry we finally did _it_. Since you seem to have your memories back" –here he stopped and gave her a questioning gaze and she confirmed his assessment with a simple nod– "you know how far we went before. I've never forgotten. That taste of you on your birthday only made me want you more. Since then, haven't you felt this… inexplicable connection… between us?"

Again, she nodded.

"Every time I've so much as looked at you for the past two months, I've wanted you. This need to have you is driving me mad. Not just for sex, but sometimes, just to touch you to make sure that you're… aware of me. Other times, it's to reassure myself that you're safe. I feel possessive of you. I hate the attention you give to Pot-head and Weasel, and I want more than anything for you to look at me like you don't loathe me." He pushed his bangs back again, clearly embarrassed at how girly his confession had sounded. "Fuck, I don't know if I can explain it, but I _feel_ it. I've felt it since term began when we-"

"-ran into each other in the corridor," she finished his thought. "I've felt it, too. Like-"

"-we should be together," he completed her sentence this time. "All the time, never separated, and in every way."

"Yeah."

Like a switch flipping, instant desire flared between them, and his lids drooped to half-mast, filling his wintery orbs with heat. The angles in his face seemed to stand out more, as the shadows coming in through the tall windows in the Wing gathered about him when he shifted closer. "I want you even now," he murmured, his voice like smooth, liquid chocolate, dark and enticing. "And I can't stop forgetting how you felt the other day. You were so turned on. You kept pushing and pulling at me, begging me to touch and taste you, and I _couldn't_ stop. I've never wanted anyone so much."

As he spoke, he began leaning towards her, as if the words he spoke held powerful sway over him. She leaned back every time he scooted forward, affected by his sudden mood change and by whatever enchantment – whether magical or natural - had them both in its grasp. It was push and pull, just like he'd said. Her breathing quickened and a tingly, magnetic feeling rushed through her body as his arm brushed against her covered leg. He continued to narrow the gap between their lips, slowly, unthinkingly drawn to her.

"Hermione…" he whispered, reverent and imploring. His eyes moved to her mouth, and she knew he was asking permission to kiss her.

She panicked, and pulling her hand from his, she rested her fingertips on his lips to halt his closing the gap between them. "Please don't," she whispered, openly shaking in both alarm and yearning. "I haven't decided if I forgive you yet or not."

Her words stopped him cold. As if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him, the moment was instantly shaken off, and he leaned back and turned away, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep, calming breath. What was he thinking at right that moment, she wondered? She'd give anything to be able to read his mind just once.

For long minutes, neither spoke again, lost in their individual thoughts. He regained control first. "What I was trying to say Granger, is that I'm really sorry for hurting you," he settled, all business again. "I'm sorry for screwing us all up." He opened his storm gray eyes, beseeching her to believe him. "But I meant everything I said to you that day - all of it."

She was cut up at his words. He'd told her he'd loved her. Did he still mean that? Or had he only meant it at the time? She knew he still wanted her, as evidenced by the way he'd just tried to snog her, but did that mean he truly cared for her, too, or was this the work of the spell that she believed had a hold of them both?

There was one way to find out.

She recalled the last thing he'd just said, honing in on one particular word. "Us?" she asked, hesitant, cautious. "You said you were sorry for 'screwing us all up.' Are you saying there is an 'us' now?"

He considered her words with a frown. "Yeah, I think."

So, he wasn't sure if his feelings were still true when they weren't touching. In fact, he looked downright upset at the seed she'd just planted. That meant that it was, most likely, as she'd suspected: a magical compulsion, not natural.

She put a hand to her head in extreme consternation, suddenly very tired of their emotional sparring. "Malfoy, what are we doing? Nothing good can come of this… this… whatever it is between us - specifically because of whom we both are. You're a _you-know-what_, and I'm Harry's best friend. We're on opposite sides. It's never going to work. We can't be friends."

He stood and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, seeming very disturbed by her determination. There was a moment when she swore he seemed on the verge of confessing something important to her, but then he shut his mouth back up and looked at the floor, chickening out. "I was just apologising, Granger. I felt bad about how we'd left things - about what I'd done to you."

He was lying, she instinctively knew; apologising wasn't the _only_ reason he'd come tonight. He'd had that look of a penitent wanting to confess some deeper, darker secret, but he'd lost his nerve. And before he'd hidden behind his habitual mask of cool detachment, obvious pain had flashed across his features at her words. He'd been hurt by her rejection.

Even after all he'd put her through, she felt a little guilty at causing him pain. It wasn't in her nature to enjoy hurting others, or to watch them suffer because of something she'd done or said. But she'd told him the necessary truth. What else could she have done?

Draco sighed and turned to the exit. "Get better, Granger. I'll see you around."

She wasn't sure what prompted her to extend a hand. It might have been that she felt sorry for him because he seemed so lonely all of the time. Or maybe it was because he'd shared his coat with her once. Or, it might even been a result of the conversation she'd had recently with Professor Dumbledore: _"I feel young Mr. Malfoy is going to need a kind heart near him this year."_ Whatever it was that urged her towards madness, she spoke before she thought.

"Draco, wait."

He faltered, tilting his head back in her direction to listen, his long bangs falling across his eyes again. She gathered her courage. "I'm not sure if I can ever forget what happened between us," she carefully managed. "It was painful and frightening. But… but I forgive you for it. I forgive you for hurting me all the time. And I'm truly sorry that we can't be friends. This… is for the best, though, don't you think?"

He didn't deign to reply.

Gods, this letting him go was _hurting!_ Her chest squeezed a throbbing rhythm that threatened to choke her up. Why was this happening?

Before she could even register the motion, she was off the cot and standing in front of him in her nightdress and bare feet. With great reluctance, she held out the ribbon for him to take back. "It's too beautiful to give away. You should keep it for someone you really like," she whispered, barely restraining the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Why did this hurt so very much?

He stared down at her hand for the space of a good dozen beats, not remarking, not moving - hardly breathing. Then, he reached out and gently closed her hand around the ribbon. His skin was warm against hers, and once more, that red flame appeared about them both, enclosing them in its beautiful luminescence.

"It was a gift for you alone. I don't want it back."

She glanced up at him in wonderment. Had he lied to her when he'd told her he used the ribbon as a tool for seduction? "Don't you… need it? You know, for other girls," she stammered, unsure of how to phrase the situation without being crude.

He shook his head, hand still hovering on hers. "It's only ever been yours."

It was the final push. Her eyes released the floodgates, and hot, salty tracks spilled down over her cheeks.

She really _was_ special to him!

Draco's hand reached out to wipe her sadness away. "Geez, Granger, you're always crying," he murmured, his voice gone hoarse with sorrow. He leaned forward and gently kissed her with a tender sweetness that broke her heart in two. They barely touched, but in those eternal seconds, she tasted his soft lips, breathed in a little of his air, and felt her soul wishing that they could stay just like that, forever. It was a good dream.

_Goodbye_, she mournfully thought, as he pulled away.

In a rush of air, he was past her and gone, his long legs swiftly taking him from her side. She listened until his footsteps faded, then wiped the tears from her face and returned to her bed with the ribbon curled between her fingers. She leaned on her side, holding her birthday present in front of her face against the pillow, and watched its liquid luminosity dance through the threads. Perhaps it was a trick of exhaustion, but just before her eyelids closed, she swore she heard a soft, female voice speaking to her in her mind.

_You were meant for each other._

That night, she dreamed of white-gold hair slipping through her fingertips.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:**

**Musical selection for this chapter:**

"**Need" by Hana Pestle (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	18. Ch 18: Lies Upon Lies

**Chapter Eighteen: Lies Upon Lies**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland **_

_**November 14-15, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

Hermione returned to classes on the fourteenth. It was supposed to be an easy day: Muggle Studies Lecture for three hours in the morning, then Advanced Arithmancy Lecture for three hours in the afternoon. Two of her favorite subjects split up by lunch. She should have enjoyed it. Unfortunately, she spent the majority of the time in between classes dodging the rumor mill as best as possible.

As soon as she entered the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, she was bombarded by questions from her Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw friends. What had happened? Was she feeling better? Did she need notes? She conjured up a nice, little white lie in advance, knowing the inevitable curiosity of her fellow classmates, and crossed her fingers behind her back each time she told it: she hadn't slept well the night before, she'd forgotten to eat lunch on Monday, and had been simultaneously poisoned in Potions Lab that morning. Hence the irritable behavior and the ensuing fainting spell. This logical explanation was easily accepted. After all, she _had_ fainted once before, and it had been attributed to stress and a poor diet then, too.

"Speaking of Potions," Harry reminded her while they were having dinner that evening, "you still have that three-hundred word essay due to Slughorn by tomorrow. And detention."

From his seat next to Harry, Ron snorted. "Bad luck, ol' girl." He chuckled around a mouthful of food. "I doubt Sluggie will lift either punishment just because you were in hospital for a few days this week."

Hermione groaned, remembering her obligations. It was Professor Slughorn's fault that she'd been paired with Malfoy in Potions Lab in the first place. Honestly, hadn't the man expected them to have a row? Everyone knew she and Slytherin's Prince couldn't get along to save the world, much less brew a potion… in public, at least. In private, they seemed to like each other a little _too_ much.

She put her head down on her arms and sighed with weariness. How had _this _become her life? At the start of term, she'd been on the fast-track to glory, her ambition to achieve greatness determined not to be impeded by the likes of the Dark Lord, and his campaign for dominating the wizarding world. She'd been spectacularly fooling herself all along, though, hadn't she? Voldemort's war _was_ coming, sooner rather than the later she'd been counting on. All of last year should have taught her that lesson. Hell, the course of the previous summer – being forced to drink all those horrid potions to counter the awful curse Dolohov had cast upon her – ought to have sealed the deal in her mind. As her mother might have chastised, she'd shown a marked imprudence in her expectation of a little more time.

_The folly of youth is in its wishful thinking,_ she'd once heard Snape state. The man had been right. The Dark Mark on Draco's arm – a clear indication that the recruitment of the youth of her generation to serve on the side of evil was underway - was the definitive sign that things would be shortly coming to a head.

Malfoy…

Cripes, she had to serve detention tomorrow night with him!

Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the thought of them being alone - for _hours._ Would he try to kiss her again? Would she let him? Would things go further? Did she want them to?

Gripping her head, she shook it back and forth. No, no, no! She was resolute that she wasn't going to start anything new with Draco Malfoy. Last night had been a final goodbye between them. Besides, she was reminded by a glance in his direction, she was supposed to care for Ron.

Truthfully, she really didn't. Not anymore. Not in that way. Being with Draco – having sex with him - had changed everything. The feelings she'd once harbored for her ginger-haired boy were nothing but a dull memory now.

Right then, Lavender Brown trundled up and plunked her ample arse down on the bench next to Ron, giving him a big, wet snog. "I missed you today, Won-Won!" she chimed in a sing-song falsetto.

Hermione couldn't help the sudden, uncharitable thought that glided through her mind: Lavender really was a naff minger, as Ginny had once pronounced.

"Missed you, too, sweetums!" Ron simpered, wrinkling his nose in repulsive affection at his girlfriend.

Hermione openly traded a look of annoyed disgust with both her two other best friends across the table from her. With a tilt of his head, Harry traded a secret signal for her to scram if she wanted, indicating he'd run interference, and Ginny backed the play up with a nod. She threw them both back a thankful smile, gathered up her satchel and made to go.

"Leaving already?" Ron asked around the mouthful of food that Lavender was shoveling down his gullet, spoon feeding him as if he were a child. He truly was oblivious of how foolish he looked.

"I'm behind in my studies," she excused. "I want to catch up with some quiet reading time. Maybe see you later in the common room." With a wave, she left the Great Hall, secretly proud that she hadn't once looked over at the Slytherin table.

That night, Hermione stayed up very late trying to finish her essay for Professor Slughorn. It was two o'clock in the morning before she'd completed the assignment. Exhausted, she put up her satchel, quill, ink pot and parchment, and changed for bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake her roommates. "_Nox_," she whispered the spell, and the tip of her wand went out. Climbing under the warm covers of her bed, she nodded out within minutes.

The morning of the fifteenth left Hermione's stomach in a braid. She would see Malfoy for most of the day today. They would share her only two classes: Potions Lecture and Defense Against the Dark Arts Lecture, each two hours a piece. After, she'd have to serve detention with him in the evening. In between, she was sure to see him in the dining hall, too. She wasn't sure, given her frazzled state that she was up for drawing his attention. For today at least, she decided to quell her natural enthusiasm for replying to a teacher's inquiries and try to keep a low profile.

Ginny met up with her for breakfast, took one look at Hermione's puffy eyes and dark circles, and she handed over the strongest cup of tea she could get her hands on. That was followed by some strong, black coffee (what she wouldn't have given for a cappuccino just then!). She nibbled on her crumpet. At one point, she started falling asleep over her plate, but Ginny nudged her, and Hermione rubbed at her eyes, suppressing a yawn behind her hand.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I was up late working on an essay."

She pointedly ignored looking around the dining hall, keeping her focus on her plate, and had to be physically dragged off to Potions Lecture by Harry, who led her through the hallways by the hand, her feet dragging behind. Twice, she stumbled on steps on her way to the dungeon, but Harry caught her easily before she tumbled both times. She chose her seat to the right of her best friend, so she'd be closest to the wall, and he served as the perfect shield for when Malfoy sauntered in, taking the seat opposite the aisle from Harry. Determinedly keeping her face forward, she scribbled the day's notes in her Potions notebook and never once raised her hand or looked to her left. By the end of class, the coffee had kicked in, and she was feeling slightly more alert.

"Two hours of Slughorn droning on about Everlasting Elixirs has made me hungry," Harry joked in a whisper as they gathered their things to leave. "Let's go eat lunch."

"I have to turn in my essay first," Hermione reminded him, pulling out the parchment she'd spent all night diligently working on. "And I want to talk to Proferssor Slughorn about rescheduling my detention, if possible. I'll meet you upstairs."

Harry patted her on the head. "Good luck with that," he grinned and left her to her own devices.

Hermione headed towards the teacher's desk. "Professor." She held out the parchment. "My assignment from Monday, sir."

Slughorn took the parchment from her hand and placed it down on the desk without looking at it. He frowned up at her, instead. "I'm disappointed that you had to write it at all, Miss Granger," he commented. "I expected better from you."

Hermione blushed in shame, looking away.

She felt the sleeves of a robe brush against her arm to her left. "It was my fault, sir," Malfoy intervened, stepping up next to her. "I'm the one who didn't correctly stir the potion." He held his own essay out for Horace to take, seemingly unaffected by the doubtful stare Slughorn gave him.

Hermione felt her heart tremble. She didn't want Draco to defend her honor, as it felt like a charity bribe and she was quite capable of defending herself. She mustered her courage. "Actually, that's not true, sir. It was my fault," she countered. "I'd accidentally ingested some lovage juice."

Slughorn raised a brow at her, his old eyes flaring with understanding. To her left, she knew Malfoy was staring at her as well. _Stop looking_, she thought at both of them, feeling intensely uncomfortable. Slughorn finally broke the stalemate. "Well, whatever the reason, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, I still expect two of my top students to behave better in my classroom. In the future, you will assure that you do so. Is that understood?"

She nodded, and from her peripheral vision, caught Draco's platinum head bob in agreement. "Yes, sir," they simultaneously acquiesced. Slughorn took Malfoy's essay from his hand, and added it to the pile of papers on his desk. "I still expect you both to be in my office at eight o'clock tonight for your detention," he told them, brooking no argument.

"Sir," Hermione interrupted. "I was wondering if you might consider allowing me to serve my detention another night?" Horace frowned, but she plowed onward. "It's just that, I'd like to get to sleep early tonight. It's been a rather difficult week."

To her surprise, Slughorn shook his head. "I'm sorry Miss Granger, but you've already had two days off this week. You've got the weekend to rest and recover." He sat up a little straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. "A Prefect must set a good example for the other students, after all, and that includes serving out her punishments, not just graciously accepting her rewards. No, I wish to see you in my office tonight at eight, as required." He turned his attention back to the stack of papers in front of him in a silent dismissal.

"Sir," Hermione acknowledged, distressed with the decision. She turned on her heel and hurried out, not wanting to make a bigger fool of herself than necessary. Thankfully, Malfoy stayed behind to speak with Slughorn, so she didn't have to walk out with him.

She made her way up to the Great Hall for lunch, but had suddenly lost all appetite.

"Any luck with the reprieve?" Harry asked her when she joined him at Gryffindor's table.

She shook her head, downtrodden. The verdict was in: she was stuck spending tonight with Draco. The idea scared her, honestly, as she was never sure of her own feelings and reactions to him anymore. What if he _did_ try to renew their sexual relationship? Her will seemed to be overridden every time they touched by that weird enchantment - not that she dreaded the idea of him touching or kissing her again. In fact, the thought conjured a fluttering in her belly and brought a quiver to her thighs.

Godric, this was insanity! How could she still want him, even knowing that some sort of spell had brought them together? Worse, knowing who and what he was – Draco Malfoy, untrustworthy Slytherin, school bully and Death Eater recruit! It was madness!

Of course, she couldn't tell Harry any of this, best guy friend or not. He'd flip.

"Bummer," he commiserated. Leaning towards her in a poorly veiled conspiratorial move, he whispered in her ear, "At least it'll give you time to be alone with Malfoy, like we talked about. That is, if you still want to go through with the plan."

Hermione had forgotten all about the scheme she and Ginny had concocted in response to Draco's blackmail. That's what she'd been arguing with Harry about before Potions Lab on Monday, in fact. At breakfast that morning, she'd laid out the rehearsed lie that she'd intended on getting close to Malfoy in an attempt to either confirm or reject Harry's suspicions about his Death Eater status. Gods, that conversation seemed eons ago. "But I thought you said the plan was too dangerous," she hedged, hoping he'd not changed his mind on that contention.

To her great chagrin, just the opposite seemed now the case; Harry grabbed onto the idea with fervor. "I've been thinking about it, and it's a good plan," he replied, fired up. "Win his trust anyway you can. We _need_ to know what Malfoy's up to. He's getting instructions from Voldemort, I just know it."

A small bead of sweat broke out above her top lip. This idea was treading on some seriously perilous territory, as openly discussing Draco's affiliation with Voldemort was something he'd warned her about just the other night. She tried a different tactic to throw her friend off the trail. "Harry, we've discussed this. Dumbledore should be able to sense a Death Eater on his own doorstep. The fact that Draco's still here and not in Azkaban is telling, don't you think?"

When it seemed that Harry was going to argue, she sighed and gave in, knowing her best friend was nothing if obsessive to the point of zealousness. Now that she'd opened this can of worms, she knew that she'd never get him to stop badgering her until she agreed to try the plan out. Holding up a hand to halt his inevitable argument, she changed her tone to be more reasonable. "However, if it will answer that question once and for all for us, then I'll do what I can to find out."

Harry broke into a grin. "Great, so I have an idea."

Hermione groaned and listened to his strategy.

By the time lunch had ended, she'd decided that she'd painted herself into a nappy, little corner, and the only way out was to play Harry's game for a week or two while she tried to read up on Occlumency and learn what she could of the art on her own. After that, she'd come up with an excuse as to how Harry's plan wasn't working, and he'd get off her back and she could move on with her life.

Walking that thin red line between what her heart and her head were telling her to do was going to be difficult, as it meant playing false to the people she loved the most, but her choices were limited. Dumbledore had been clear that he already knew Draco's motives, and that he wanted her to help him. Somehow, she got the impression that outing her lover – the implication of that one word made her flush hot all over – to her best friend wouldn't be in anyone's best interests, and could only lead to Draco ending up killed by his Master for being found out.

Lies upon more lies, she despaired. When would this end?

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

"**Breathe No More" by Evanescence (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	19. Ch 19: The Plan

**Chapter Nineteen: The Plan**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland **_

_**November 15, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) **_

In her afternoon Defense Against the Dark Arts Lecture, Hermione repeated the morning's plan: she again sat next to Harry, nearest the wall, concentrated on note taking and said nothing to attract attention. She just needed this small respite from the spotlight. Just one day. She promised herself that she'd be right as rain and back to normal tomorrow.

It was killing her not to raise her hand.

She also tried very hard not to look at Malfoy – 'tried' being the operative word in that sentence. He sat in the chair directly in front of Harry, and she had a perfect view of his profile from her seat. An ideal view she did her best to ignore. Even facing completely forward, eyes riveted to the blackboard in the front of the class, though, she could still see his sugar-white hair from her peripheral vision, and frankly, it was damned distracting. It was like a magnet to her eyes, contrasting against the backdrop of the darkened classroom. The urge to turn her full attention on him was maddening.

_He loves you._

She dropped her quill, shocked, and fretfully looked about without turning her head. No one seemed to have heard that, but her; no one had jumped back or was looking around in confusion. All concentration from her fellow students, as far as she could tell, was on Snape, who was going on about Obliviation, which was on page three-hundred and eleven in their textbook, _Confronting the Faceless_.

It hadn't been her imagination, she was sure of it! It was the same voice as in the Hospital Wing from two nights ago. A strange woman with an odd accent – one she'd never heard before - was whispering enticements to her, encouraging her to…

_Look at him._

Heart pounding like a jackhammer in her chest, she quickly fingered her hair braid. It was warm, and from the corner of her eye, she could see it brilliantly glowing red. She had woven Malfoy's gift into her curls this morning as she'd tied it into a neat plait, feeling more secure with it physically touching her. Now she began to wonder: was the ribbon part of this weird enchantment that seemed to have captured both she and Draco in its grip? She hadn't heard this foreign woman's voice in her mind until he'd given the ribbon back to her up in the Hospital Wing, after all.

But, why that particular time? Why hadn't it talked to her the night of her birthday for the hour or so that it had been used to tie back her hair? What had been different about the second time the ribbon had come into her possession? And what about that afternoon in the Room of Erised? She hadn't owned the ribbon then; Draco had it somewhere stashed away. Yet, she'd seen its fiery aura in her vision.

Some vital clue was missing. She couldn't even skip logic to fill in the missing parts to understand why or when this enchantment was activated, or why it was changing now, as she had no idea what the enchantment's purpose was – aside from getting her to want to shag Malfoy.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was a lust spell of some kind.

It was time for some answers. _Who are you?_ she mentally inquired, hoping the foreigner would answer. No response was forthcoming, though. _What do you want with me? Why are you trying to get me together with Draco Malfoy?_

"Perhaps you can tell us, Miss Granger?"

Snape's voice woke her right up from her internal thoughts. Her eyes snapped to him, and he stared down at her with that snide, nasty look on his face.

_Obliviation is dangerous because…, _the voice prompted.

Hermione grasped at the life-line. "Because, professor, memories are more than just pictures captured in a moment. They engage the visual, sensory and emotional parts of the brain all at the same time. Obliviation spells can eradicate the visual part, but not the other two. That's why Obliviation always leaves behind some residual feelings, and why the victims sometimes experience déjà vu, or suffer phantom smells or tastes, or unintentionally repeat events that may have been erased later on in life. These sensations can cause the victim to go slowly insane as they try to riddle out the missing pieces, unless the caster has a good enough story concocted that the victim will believe after the fact."

She held her breath, waiting for judgment.

Snape's glittering, black eyes narrowed and it was clear he was considering how she'd managed to pull that fluffy, little rabbit out of her hat when it was clear she hadn't been paying a bit of attention to his lecture.

Deciding he'd been bested this time, his dark gaze swung to Harry at her side, hoping to trip up her best friend. "What else, Mister Potter?"

"Uh… Obliviation can rebound if cast incorrectly," Harry supplied, sounding a tad nervous.

Zero for two, Snape whipped around and crossed the aisle, turning his unpleasant disposition on the one person in class guaranteed to fumble. "And what else, Mister Longbottom?"

Hermione tuned them out, her hand going back to the ribbon in her hair. _I guess I should thank you,_ she projected to the interloper in her head, but was disappointed when there was no response.

Her eyes quickly traveled over to Malfoy, who was busy taking notes, like the rest of the class. Snape had put the fear of Godric into them all, and now no one wanted to get caught looking as if they weren't focused on every syllable the teacher spoke. She looked down to her own notes. She should concentrate on the paper in front of her, too…

Draco shifted in his chair and her eyes tracked the movement.

Damn it, she'd vowed that she wasn't going to go _there_ with Slytherin's Prince again. It was dangerous. _He_ was dangerous, having become a Junior Death Eater and willing servant to her enemy this year. Besides, she had more important things to worry about, like her grades and prefect responsibilities, and the coming war, her friends, and the safety of her parents. She would forget what happened between her and Malfoy - that's all there was to it. She would put it behind her, and focus on the future.

He fidgeted again in his seat.

Her eyes unwittingly strayed to his pale jaw and neckline, following the curve of his skin as it sank into his crisp, white shirt collar. The memory of kissing that soft neck made her breath catch in her chest. Her gaze slid up his cheek and was instantly charmed by his dark golden eyelashes as he blinked, never noticing before how long and thick they were. Following the curves and angles of his face, she felt a tingling in her belly as she watched him lick his lips. When he did it again, a warm, silken rush of fluid saturated her cotton knickers. God, she remembered that mouth and tongue pressed somewhere else, licking with bold strokes over…

_No! Look away_, she silently rebuked. _Concentrate on what Snape's saying._

But it was useless, and within half an hour, Hermione had no choice but to admit that she didn't think she'd ever recover enough of her sensibility to function normally so long as Draco Malfoy was nearby. That thought both frustrated and saddened her. She could never have him, so why was she torturing herself this way?

When class finally ended, she tore out of the room, ignoring Harry's astonishment, and hurried through the corridors back to Gryffindor's tower. She entered the portrait, darted through the common area, hurried to the girls dorms and threw her body down on her bed, burying her face in her pillow. She had a terrible headache, worried by not only her half-period, which was on its third and final miserable day according to Madam Pomfrey (thanks to the potion she'd had to take to prevent unintended pregnancy back in the Hospital Wing), but also about tonight's detention.

Ginny passed by her door, and turned back to lean in. "Hey!" she greeted.

"Hey," Hermione grunted in reply.

Obviously sensing trouble, her best girl friend stepped up to bat, undaunted. "Anything the matter?"

Hermione wearily sat up, and waved her friend over. She needed to confide some of this stuff to someone before she popped. Once they were sitting face to face, tailor-style, Hermione shut the drapes of her bed and cast _Muffliato_ so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Harry wants me to go ahead with the Malfoy plan," she sighed.

Ginny grinned. "Good. He was the important one to win over on the idea of you getting close to the Ferret."

Hermione put her head in her hands. "I'm not sure I want to do this anymore."

Her companion leaned back on her hands. "Why not?"

"I'm not enjoying the prospect of playing games with Draco."

"Not to sound redundant, but… why not?" Ginny asked again.

Hermione decided to be truthful. "He confuses me."

A slow grin worked its way up her friend's mouth. "Ah, so, there _was_ more to that kiss than you let on," she surmised.

"No," Hermione automatically countered. "Yes." She sighed. "I don't know." She was becoming frustrated, and the headache was getting worse. She rubbed at her temples.

"I'll ask you once more," her girl friend pried, "do you like Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione was scandalized. Well, _of course_ she liked him. She'd let him seduce her, for Merlin's sake! But, how could she tell Ginny any of that? The girl was Ron's sister. How would she react?

Gin said nothing for a few minutes, patiently waiting for an answer that never came. Whatever she saw in Hermione's face, though, seemed to settle the issue for her. "I had a feeling," she confided, strangely not upset by the revelation. "You've been acting really strange for a while now. I thought it was because of Ron and Lavender, but after seeing that look you and the blond git traded in the dining hall that night, I kind of knew that my dummy, older brother had lost his shot."

Hermione tried to deny it, but no sound came from her throat. It was as if once she admitted aloud that she liked Draco, everything would suddenly change in the world. She felt ill.

"I don't blame you, actually," her BFF continued. "Slytherin's Prince may be a serious wanker, but he's a bloody good-looking one."

Hermione was shocked by the reality of her feelings – and the hopelessness of her situation. Tears prickled her eyes. "But I don't _want_ to feel this way," she admitted, upset. Her head was pounding now. "He's Draco_ shite-for-attitude _Malfoy, for Godric's sake!" Ginny's eyebrows shot up at Hermione's uncharacteristic cursing, but wisely kept her mouth shut. Hermione's rant continued, her tone escalating with every sentence. "I mean, this is the same guy who has made all of our lives miserable for years! He's been downright nasty to me, he's hurt Harry and Ron and Hagrid and… hell, _everyone_. He's walked around this castle like he owns it. He's insulted your family. He's generally behaved like a rat-arsed, little bastard since day one!" The tears were streaming down her cheeks now, unchecked as her panic levels rose.

Damn him, but Draco had been right; she was always crying this year. What the hell was _wrong_ with her?

"But despite all that, you still like him," Ginny pressed.

Hermione hid her face in her hands, unable to admit it. She couldn't say the words. Not out loud. No.

"Why?" her friend pressed.

"When he looks at me," she sniffled, sounding pathetic even to her own ears. "I feel special, wanted. Ron has never looked at me like that - except when he wants me to do his homework for him."

Gin nodded in sympathy and understanding. "Yep, you and my brother are definitely not happening."

She gave her friend a questioning look through her fingers.

"I see the way you look at him now," Ginny stated with a shrug, "and I don't blame you for it. He's been a right ponce. He doesn't deserve you."

Hermione tittered, sadly. "So, you don't mind if I give up on Ron, then?"

Her favorite female confidant shook her head. "Not a bit."

"And… Malfoy?"

Gin considered it. "Definitely not my first choice, but if the sparks are flying, you might as well go along for the ride. You're only young once."

Hermione felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders. She dropped her hands from her face and actually felt her lips twitching in a tentative smile. Knowing just one person was on her side gave her great comfort. That the one person happened to be Ginny, sister to her former crush and a girl with a lot of good relationship sense since she'd begun accumulating her own dating experience, made a huge difference.

"I mean, why not?" the girl grinned. "Malfoy's a hottie. Enjoy it while you can. Just don't let Harry know you're serious. Let him continue to think it's for the cause. He won't understand."

Hermione shook her head, suddenly doubtful again. "It feels deceitful, though. He's my best friend."

Ginny conceded with a nod. "Maybe. But then it's really no one else's business but yours and Malfoy's. You don't have a say in Harry's love life." She grinned at the irony. "Besides," her friend finished, "you shouldn't deny your feelings, at least not to yourself. _You_ told me that, remember?"

Yes, she did remember: it was the exact same advice she'd given Ginny back when her friend had confided that she'd fallen for a certain dark-haired wizard in spectacles. Still, Hermione hesitated, biting her lip in apprehension.

"Who would you be hurting if you gave yourself this chance?" her girl friend seriously asked her. "My brother certainly isn't paying attention - no offense. And Malfoy seems to have some feelings for you. Like I said the last time, he was positively pisser when he watched you watching Ron that night at dinner. That kind of jealousy doesn't come up unless a guy really digs you. So, what's the problem?"

Hermione blinked. Maybe she _had_ been overanalyzing things. Considering the problem in such a simplistic way, Ginny certainly had a point. What was the big deal about liking Malfoy? He was good looking – _gads, was he ever!_ – and he'd confessed to loving her, even. Sure, it would be an adjustment for everyone if they started openly dating, since their history together had been so negatively broadcast, but people would adapt. Well, maybe not Harry, but like Ginny said, Hermione could keep Harry in the dark about her true feelings until so much time had gone by that they either weren't together anymore, or that the idea wasn't repugnant to him any longer. He'd have to accept it, eventually.

Putting Harry into the equation suddenly jolted Hermione back to reality.

She couldn't afford to get mixed up with Malfoy - he was a Death Eater_._ He'd chosen to fight for Lord Voldemort, which meant, he'd chosen to be Harry's enemy, and by proxy, _her_ enemy. She could never abandon her best friend for so selfish a reason as love…

And there it was.

Her heart stopped beating. The world stopped turning. Time itself stopped moving.

Up until that point, she'd been willing to admit to a serious infatuation with Malfoy. She'd known that as far back as the night of her birthday. But, somewhere along the line, those feelings had… evolved. Maybe it had been the night he'd shared his winter coat with her. Or maybe it had been when she'd woken up and found the ribbon in a box next to her hospital cot, and knew he'd left it for her to bring her some measure of comfort.

No… she knew exactly when it had been: two nights ago, when she'd awoken to find him in the Hospital Wing, watching over her as she lay defenseless in sleep. When he'd admitted the ribbon had only been for her and kissed her with his heart in his eyes, _that's_ when it had happened.

She'd fallen in love with him without meaning to and against all logic.

The blinding truth hit her like a hammer between her eyes. She flushed hot, then cold, then hot again. Her stomach rioted violently, unable to be contained any longer, and she jumped up, running for the small water closet across the hall just as the bile rose in her throat. She vomited leaning over the toilet, then collapsed onto weak knees before it, uncontrollably sobbing.

Merlin help her, she'd actually fallen in love with the enemy!

But was it the result of the weird enchantment that she was sure was influencing the draw they felt towards each other, or was this natural? God, what if she was being manipulated by some outside force? _Is it you?_ _Are you doing this to us – to me? _she demanded in the vaults of her mind to the strange presence, but received no reply.

Ginny held her hair as she threw up again, thoroughly emptying the contents of her stomach. After a while, her sobs quieted. Her friend pressed a cool, damp washcloth to her forehead and thrust a cup of water into her hands. Hermione swished her mouth out until the cup was empty, wiped the tears from her face, and then was escorted back to her bed by her girl friend's mothering hands.

In the background, the five o'clock bell tolled.

"'Mione," Gin asked after a long silence, using her pet name. "This goes beyond just liking Malfoy, and a snog, doesn't it?"

Weakly, she nodded.

"You've slept with him, haven't you?"

Hermione choked out another sob and nodded, burying her face into the coverlet.

Ginny sighed in reluctant acceptance. "I figured."

There was no longer any need to hold back, and truthfully, Hermione felt she needed someone to understand. So, she told her companion everything that had happened this last week. She did not mention Draco's Dark Mark, or the fact that she had remembered the previous September's events - again to keep his secrets - but she held nothing else back. She couldn't even look at Ginny as she confessed her heart out. When she finished, she closed her eyes, waiting for the vicious rebuke, for the shouting and blame, and for the inevitable abandonment by her best friend.

Instead, Ginny's jaw unhinged with her instinctual understanding of the situation. "You _love_ him, don't you?"

She put her hands over her eyes again. "Yes, so help me. I don't want to, but I do." She curled up into a ball on her side. "Gin, what am I going to do?"

Her friend soothed her with gentle petting over her arm and waist. "I tell you what you're _not_ going to do," she replied firmly. "You're _not_ going to keep making yourself sick over this. You're going to have to make a choice, 'Mione. Either grab onto your Gryffindor courage and tell Malfoy your feelings, or give him up forever."

"If I tell him... Gin, his father's a convicted Death Eater," Hermione refuted, determined not to give away Draco's secrets, but perhaps make Ginny understand the danger of the first proposed option. "His family is tied up intimately with the Dark Lord. _I've fallen for_ _the enemy_, Gin, don't you see? And I'm Muggle-born to boot. His family will never accept me. Heck, they'd probably try to kill me just for sharing the same air."

Her friend nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But denying your feelings for Malfoy has brought you to _this_," she indicated Hermione's miserable state with a wave at her hand. "I don't think you're the kind to be able to permanently lock such feelings away. You're too sincere."

"What are you suggesting?" she asked, incredulous at what her friend was implying. "That I betray Harry and you, and everyone else I love for _him__?_"

Ginny shook her head. "I'm saying that I think that if anyone can turn Malfoy from his family's legacy, it's you."

Hermione sat up, wide-eyed as a small piece of hope flared to life in her chest. "What?"

"He's already told you that he loves you," her friend reminded her. "And you've just admitted you love him. So… if it's real between you two, you can overcome _anything_, even Voldemort's hate!" Her face was abruptly very determined, as if she wasn't just talking about Hermione and Draco's relationship, but her own with Harry.

She paused, considering her friend's sage words. That was sort of the same kind of advice that Dumbledore had hinted as well. But could her love be enough to turn Malfoy from the path he'd chosen? The foreign presence in her mind had asserted earlier that he loved her, but was that still true? They'd said goodbye the other night. That had been permanent, hadn't it? Maybe it wasn't too late to take it back?

Glancing back at Ginny, feeling her optimism blossoming, she hesitantly asked the same questions to her friend.

"All's fair in love and war, right?" Gin challenged, winking at her.

Perhaps she was right.

Gin left for a few minutes to take a jaunt down to the dining hall to pick up some food to go for the both of them, while Hermione jumped into a shower to cool down and wash the stink of vomit from her person. She brushed her teeth, too.

Her friend returned to her dorm room half an hour later with a large plate filled with bangers, sautéed onions, two types of hard cheese, a couple of rolls, and fruit for dessert. They sat on Hermione's bunk with the curtains drawn and bespelled again, and ate while strategizing. By seven-thirty, Hermione felt renewed. Her headache was gone, she'd taken some Muggle medicine for her cramps, and Ginny had re-braided her hair, entwining the ribbon into the pleats again. She'd even helped her apply a little make-up to her lashes and lips.

On her way out the door, before she left for Slughorn's office, her friend handed her an apple. "To freshen your breath," she advised with a wink.

As she walked through the hallways, Hermione chewed on the sweet Allington Pippin, feeling a little trepidation at the new plan. Underneath that, though, was a growing excitement. Her indecisiveness on "the Malfoy matter" (as Ginny referred to it) had been causing much of her stress - that and having no one to truly confide in. Now that she had spilled her guts, and Gin had helped her come up with a solid strategy for dealing with Draco and Harry, she felt focused again, more her normal self. She knew she functioned best with a purpose and a direction, and now she had both.

For tonight, the design was simple: find out if Draco really meant it when he'd told her he loved her. Make him say it out loud again, so there would never be any doubt. Ginny assured her that once that was accomplished, they could move on to step two: building a friendship. Step three was the part she was most frightened of: the seduction. Thankfully, that would be much further down the line. She'd just have to remember not to give too much away tonight, otherwise, her best girl friend warned, their relationship could be over before it had even started.

She prayed she'd find the strength to resist Malfoy's seductive charms – and the influence of the enchantment upon them both - once he started kissing her.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR ****CHAPTER NINETEEN:**

**Allington Pippin is a type of apple that has a pineapple-like taste to it. It's a good apple for baking, and found in the U.K. quite readily.**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

"**Listen To Your Heart" by Roxette (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	20. Ch 20: Losing Control

**Chapter Twenty: Losing Control**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_****, _Scotland_**

**_November 15, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year) _**

By Friday evening, Draco's nerves were stretched so taut that he felt the need for physical violence. He slouched in one of the oversized leather chairs in the Slytherin common area, one long leg slung over the arm, staring into the fire that roared in the grand stone hearth. He avoided talking to or looking at anyone coming in or going out. Even Zabini had taken the hint and left him alone after several failed attempts at conversation. All Draco could do was sit in self-imposed silence, turn over his thoughts, and hate himself.****

Hermione had been avoiding him since returning to classes yesterday. He'd intentionally been gauging her, putting himself in her line of sight as much as possible, waiting for some signal – a glance, a word, an accidental touch - that could give him some ray of hope. She hadn't looked his way once in the last two days as far as he could tell. She'd rejected his help when he'd tried to intervene with Slughorn on her behalf, too. She'd even tried to get out of detention tonight – which was the big, bold writing on the wall telling him that she didn't want to be alone with him. Apparently, she'd meant it when she'd explained to him that they couldn't be friends. He'd ruined them.****

_That's it then_, he thought, disconsolate. _It's over._

Furious at the whole blasted, problematic situation, he snarled and sat up, stalking up to his empty dorm room and slamming the door behind him. He wanted – no, _needed_ - to break something, so he picked up the first fragile thing he saw – one of Crabbe's Remembralls – and threw it hard against the wall, shattering it into thousands of tiny glass fragments. Then he did the same with some of his books, damaging the spines. The oak armoire followed, crashing to the stone floor, splintering the hard frame with the force of impact. "Bloody _fucking_ hell!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, seething.

Out in the corridor, beyond his shut door, he could hear student voices murmuring with concern and fear. His tantrum was creating a scene. _Not good, _he panicked. His orders had been clear: he was to draw no obvious attention to himself this year, for the Dark Lord didn't want Dumbledore to guess his involvement in anything nefarious. He needed to regain control - immediately.

Draco dug his nails into his palms and gritted his teeth, trying to keep the worst of his rage back, but the wall of his uncontrollable vehemence was difficult to break through. He'd never felt so angry or frustrated, not in all his life. It was almost… unnatural emotion.****

_Why fight it? _the malevolent voice in the back of his mind wheedled. _Go on._ _Destroy everything. _

He shook his head, and took two deep breaths before he could think rationally again. _Go the fuck away__!_ he warned the invading presence._ I'm in control here, not you, you bastard._

Maniacal laughter answered, but the voice hinted no more.****

There was a knock at the door.****

"I SAID TO GO THE FUCK AWAY!" he shouted out loud, enraged once more at being disturbed.****

The door creaked opened, and Theodore Nott peeked in. He glanced at the wispy remains of the Remembrall and at the damaged school books lying in a messy pile on the floor, then back up at Draco. "So, I can come in, yeah?"****

"No," Draco uncharitably spit.****

Nott was unperturbed by the blunt rejection, as well as the death glare Draco threw him. The guy coolly sauntered inside the room, gripped the brass handle on the inside, and prudently shut the door behind him. He then leaned back against it, hands in his pockets. "Could hear your swearing all the way past the portrait entrance, D. What's eating you lately?"****

Teddy was the only person in the world that Draco allowed to call him by any sort of pet name; not even his mother could get away with such audacity. The reason was that Draco respected the guy. His best friend was the_ real _shite. Nott had earned his top spot in Slytherin using a combination of his own sweat, blood and hard work over the past few years. He was the independent type, never joining a gang, never getting involved in House politics, and yet, he was smart enough to know how to stay in-the-know, despite making few actual friends. He excelled at all his classes, and ranked amongst the highest grade averages in the entire school. But most of all, despite his tall, reedy appearance, Teddy was a _survivor_. His pureblood father had been a loyal Death Eater under Voldemort the first time around, and he had been fanatical to the cause. Needless to say, he hadn't taken the Dark Lord's supposed demise well. Consequently, the elder Nott had spent the better part of Teddy's childhood with his head in a wine bottle and his hand on his whip.****

Draco thought distastefully on the senior Nott. The man was an even worse bastard than Draco's own sire; at least Lucius hadn't left permanent scars on his son's body. Teddy's thin back was crisscrossed with ragged, stitched welts, and the pinky and ring fingers of his left hand could only close part way. And yet, Teddy had survived the horror of an abusive parent, just as Draco had, and because of this, they had formed a strong friendship over the years.****

It was precisely in the name of that friendship that Draco didn't rip Nott's head off for disturbing him just then. He sniffed in annoyance instead, and threw his back down on his bed, resting his hands behind his head. He crossed his ankles and stared up at the green curtains overhead. "I'm fine," he growled.****

"Yeah, your cabinet thinks so too," Teddy drawled, kicking a foot towards the damaged piece of furniture.****

"Fuck off," Draco muttered without any real heat.****

His friend suddenly appeared at the foot of his bed, one hand on each of the tall, wooden canopy posts. "So, what's her name?" he asked in that uncanny way he had of simply _knowing_ the truth behind any problem. "Can I guess?"

"No."****

Teddy nonchalantly shrugged. "I've already sussed her out. I was just giving you the chance to cop to it first."****

Draco snorted. "Whatever, liar."****

Nott leaned against one of the posts, crossed his arms and smirked down at him. "It's obvious, mate. You stare at Granger all the time."****

At that, Draco sat up, livid again. "What did you say?" he hissed in warning.****

Teddy gave him a knowing look. "You're in over your head this time, D."****

He got to his feet, stalked around the bed to his friend and shoved him, embarrassed at having been found out. "And what do you know of it?"

The guy stared evenly at him, his hazel eyes unflinching. "You're gutted by that chit, man. Anyone with any sense could see it. You're always watching her, following her around."****

Draco blanched, and stepped back as if struck.

Over the past three years in particular, he'd begun to take some serious pride in his acting skills. He'd worked hard to perfect the sneer, the smirk, and the enigmatic and bored stare. He'd practiced the casual lean, the arrogant swagger, the heated gaze, and the mask of innocence. Throughout it all, he'd been conscientious and careful of not letting his true self show in public. Sure, this year he'd been off his game a bit, no thanks to the pressure of completing the Dark Lord's tasks and taking the Mark, but really, had he been _that_ obvious a sap over Granger?

He turned away from Teddy's discerning focus, jamming his hands into his pant pockets. "I'm pathetic," he sourly stated.****

Teddy clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations. "Yeah, you are."****

"Fuck," Draco swore again, running his hand through his long bangs again. "What am I gonna do? She winds me up."****

His Housemate sat on the end of the bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "Have you told her?"

Draco nodded. "In spades. She hates me."****

Nott whistled. "You're really lost on her, aren't you?"****

He sniffed at the irony. "You have no idea."****

"This isn't like you, mate," Teddy observed. "You're usually more assertive with the ladies."****

"Yeah, well, _she's_ not like other girls, is she?" Draco remarked, his shoulders slumping in defeat.****

His friend shifted his long legs, curling them back in and sitting up. "You should keep trying. Don't let her go, if you want her that badly."****

Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "You know what I am better than any of the others," he reminded his friend. Nott had been present at his indoctrination into Voldemort's camp the previous summer. "And you know that Potter's her best mate. And it's not as if I can bring her home to meet the parents, can I? She's Muggle-born. Just fucking cherry."****

"You're up the duff, then," his companion sympathetically offered.****

He snorted, resigned. "Tell me about it."****

Nott regained his height and glanced down at the mess left by Draco's earlier outburst. "Don't you have detention tonight at eight with Slughorn?"****

"Yeah," Draco nodded. "And _she's_ gonna be there."****

Teddy raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? _That _should be fun."****

"Feckin' peachy," he uttered, feeling like he was a man drowning in quicksand.****

"You're gonna be late if you don't leave now," his friend warned.****

Draco started and looked around the room at the cluttered chaos he'd created.****

Teddy waved him off. "I'll get this. You go. Don't want ol' Sluggie getting madder at you. You might lose your spot as his second favorite this term."****

Draco threw his friend thanks with a nod, and headed for the door. Nott stopped him as he reached for the handle, though.****

"Oh, hey, you might want this," he grinned, tossing something small and rectangular at Draco, who caught it mid-air. He turned the small package over: Drooble's Strawberry Gum. "Daphne loves the stuff," Teddy confided with a sly wink. "She says it tastes good on me."****

Draco was floored. "Since when are you dating Greengrass?"****

Teddy gave him a brash smirk, and pointed to the door. "Tick-tock, D."****

He rushed from the room, heading to Slughorn's office, tightly clutching the packet of gum in his hand.****

**X~~~~~X**

Granger was already sitting in a stiff wooden chair in front of the Potions Professor's desk when he arrived at exactly one minute to eight. He took the seat next to her, not daring to directly glance at her. Out of his peripheral vision, though, he noted that she, too, was determinedly staring straight ahead. He forced his focus on Slughorn. The man's head was bent over his work, and he was furiously scribbling something onto a piece of parchment. He dipped his quill into his ink pot several times before he finally looked up and addressed them.****

"You will serve your detention tonight in the library," he instructed them in a crisp manner. "You will take this list," he indicated the parchment he had just finished writing upon, "and divide the research up between you. I expect you to find any reference to the items I have listed here, and note the book's title, author, page number and corresponding paragraph on the sheet."****

He handed the paper out and Hermione leaned forward in her chair, taking it from him. She then glanced over at the list, her brow furrowing as she made her way down the page. "Sir," she hesitantly chanced, "Many of these items aren't to be discovered in the regular section of reading materials. They're references to dark magic."****

"I have already arranged with Madam Pince to allow you access to the Restricted Section just for the evening," their teacher informed them, ignoring her point. "Your detention ends at midnight, so you will have four hours in which to exhaust all research possibilities. I'm sure that will be more than enough time for you both to accomplish such a task if you work together." He pulled a clean sheet of parchment from a stack on his desk and reached for his quill again. "I'll come to collect you at midnight. You may go."****

Hermione stood and left the room without another word. Draco followed her out, feeling Slughorn's eyes creep along the back of his head, and got a juped-up case of the heebie-jeebies.****

In the hallway, he walked behind Granger. She was still in her school uniform, as was he. Her long hair was pulled back into a soft braid that ended at just above where her bra strap would rest. As they passed down the torch lit corridor, he noticed a red flame sparkling amongst the plaited tresses. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the ribbon he'd given her for her birthday; it had been worked into the strands of her hair in a feminine and artful manner.****

She was wearing his gift tonight! Did that mean something?

Although he tried to curb his natural enthusiasm, Draco felt his heart leap with hope, and it was suddenly difficult to calm his racing mind. It was a sign - it just _had_ to be. He was hell bent to find out, in any case. Lengthening his stride, he easily caught up to her, moving along to her left. Then, when they were even, he slowed down to her pace again.****

Neither said a word to the other all the way to the library, even though he knew they were both acutely aware of each other.****

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED…_**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY:**

**Musical selections recommended for this chapter: **

**"Keep Myself Awake" by Black Lab (Draco's thoughts about his situation)**

**"A Quiet Mind" by Blue October (Draco's thoughts about Hermione)**


	21. Ch 21: The Bet

**Chapter Twenty-one: The Bet**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**November 15, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)**_

At the library, Draco became impatient with Madam Pince, willing her to just _go_ already. The old bat was hovering around them, reminding them of the library rules and special handling concerns for some of the Restricted Section books.

"And don't forget the charm for The Voynich Manuscript," she reminded them. "If you don't say the words just right, it will remain indecipherable to you."

Hermione made all of their arrangements, collecting two quills and ink pots from the librarian, and penning their names onto the sign-in sheet. Pince then guided them towards the door in the far corner of the room, the lighted indoor lantern in her hands casting her deep, severe shadow on the shelves and walls around them. She unlocked the room with a large brass key from her inside robe pocket, entered ahead of them and placed the lantern on a large, sturdy, wooden table nearby. Before turning to go, she once again stated emphatically to Hermione – a Prefect and trusted, regular visitor to the library – that she expected them both to properly behave in her absence. Hermione made her assurances and _finally_, Draco sighed, the librarian left for the evening.

In the ensuing, awkward silence, after the door shut behind Pince, he warily regarded Hermione, unsure of how make his approach. So far, she hadn't directly addressed him. Hell, she hadn't even looked at him. Should he start the conversation to break the ice? Maybe he should comment on her hair. Girls always liked being told they were beautiful. Or would that make her more uncomfortable than flattered? Hermione wasn't as sexually sophisticated as he was used to dealing with; she hadn't wanted to be teased or tamed by him. He was afraid of scaring her off. If only she'd give him a more obvious signal!

He sighed. He'd just have to let his witch establish the tone for what was to come tonight, and then roll with it. _Not too aggressive, though_, he consciously made the reminder, concerned about a repeat of past mistakes. He still didn't fully trust his responses anymore, not with that other side of his personality ambushing him when he was at his weakest. He'd have to try very hard to keep control around her from now on.

As he assessed his companion in silence, he cautiously leaned one hip against the table and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. Granger set the items she'd been carrying down next to the lantern, and then took up Slughorn's parchment, again reading it. She physically mouthed the contents of the list as she skimmed the writing, and Draco had a powerful, unbidden memory of sucking on those same lips. He shifted, trying to control his lower body's automatic reaction.

His gaze rested on her eyes, where it was safer… Wait, was she wearing make-up? He scrutinized her face in the soft yellow-white lamp light. Yes, she had on some sort of sheer gloss, there was a sparkle of color on her lids, and her lashes had been teased. That wasn't normal. The only time he could ever recall seeing her prettied up had been the night of the Yule Ball, two Christmases before. He couldn't recollect seeing her wear cosmetics since then. Did that mean something?

"What items do you want to tackle?" she asked, jarring him out of his thoughts and holding the paper out to him. "I was thinking of taking Channeling and Scrying items. But if you want those, then I'll take Petrification and Memory items instead."

That's right; he was here to serve a punishment. No matter what he might want to do for the next three and a half hours, all alone with the girl of his every wank fantasy in a semi-dark, very private locale – and _that _thought was seriously stimulating - he knew he had to produce some actual work, or else he'd be stuck with another detention next week.

He stepped towards Hermione, reached for the paper, gave it a cursory glance, shrugged, and handed it back to her. "Whatever you want," he tried for easygoing. "Your choice."

She stared up at him with big, doe-like eyes, blushed, bit her lip and quickly looked away. "Okay, then I-I-I'll take Channeling and Scrying items," she stammered. With list in hand, she circled a wide radius around to the other side of the table, careful not to step too close to him, determinedly headed for the tall wall of books.

Draco felt his smile flit to life.

Granger's reaction had been _very_ telling: she was still attracted to him. _That_ was something he could work with. Suddenly giddy and feeling rather playful, he stepped up behind her at the bookshelf, putting his hands in his pockets for safety's sake, and hovered so close that she wouldn't be able to _not_ notice.

She was skimming the titles on spines, checking and rechecking against her list as he stepped into her. She froze between one breath and the next, but in the next beat, she straightened her spine. He almost chuckled when she primly cleared her throat, pulled out two books and brought them back to the table, again moving in a wide circle away from him. Draco moved with her, lingering over her shoulder the whole time, unable to contain his mischievous grin.

"Was there something you needed?"

Leaning his backside against the table, Draco rested his right hand against hers. It was a very slight touch, maneuvered to seem accidental, although he'd done it on purpose to test her. "I can't very well do my work if you have the only copy of the list," he reminded her with his warmest, least mocking smile.

She blushed crimson, but did not move her hand away - a good omen. He felt his stomach tighten in response.

"You're right," she murmured. Seemingly reluctant to break the skin-to-skin contact, Hermione reached for a fresh piece of parchment paper, dipped her quill in ink, and began scribbling down a list of the items he would be responsible for researching. He noted that her penmanship was beautifully done, the letters gracefully arching and looping, very feminine – much like his mother's.

When she'd finished, she handed him the copy. "If I remember correctly, references to Goofer Dust, Hyssop and Devil's Shoe Strings are ingredients used in the practice of Hoodoo. And I've seen Calamus Root and Indigo Licorice mentioned a few times under Native Muggle Medicinal texts."

He shook his head in amazement. "Your memory never fails to impress, Granger," he commended, flashing his most electric grin. He reached out and took the paper from her hand, and their fingers "accidentally" brushed in the transfer. He felt the jolt low in his gut, and by the way her eyes widened, he knew Hermione had been affected, too. Perhaps there was a chance for more after all.

Draco was suddenly struck with wicked inspiration. "I bet I can finish my research first."

She stared up at him, a challenging skepticism lighting her expression. "I doubt it. I spend a lot of time in here with these books."

"What, afraid of a little challenge, Granger?" he dared.

She scoffed. "Hardly."

"Well then… How about it? I bet I can finish my work before you."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and a playfully defiant glint came into her eye. "All right, it's a bet," she declared.

"And what do I get if I win?" he asked, dropping his voice into a sensuously low octave.

To his astonishment, her eyes traveled to his lips. As she narrowed in on them, she unconsciously licked her own.

With years of practice, Draco outwardly controlled his astonishment. Inside, he couldn't believe his dumb luck and was dancing a happy jig. It seemed as though Hermione had made a decision at some point in the last two days that she wanted to try again. Maybe that's what she'd been deliberating since Thursday morning even, and why she'd been ignoring him so spectacularly in the intervening hours in between? He'd taken her indifference to his presence as a brush-off, but maybe it had merely been her way of protecting herself while she mulled things over in her mind.

Still, he wanted her to _say_ aloud that she wanted him to kiss her, so there could be absolutely no misunderstandings between them ever again. "Tell me what you're willing to give," he whispered, leaning down towards her upturned face.

Her breathing sped up. "What do you… want?"

He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and held back repeating the reply that automatically leapt into his mind: _I want you, _he thought. _I want to take you right here on this table and make you mine again. I want to hear you say my name as I make you come. I want you to want me this time – all the way. _Instead, he settled on something a little more benign. "A kiss."

She dropped her gaze and licked her lips again as she considered his offer. The motion was so innocent and honest that it turned him on. Thank Christ he was wearing black pants and long robes, otherwise she'd see exactly how much she affected him - and that was the _last _thing he needed right then. Such blatant lust might just scare her away. Hell, he hoped he hadn't done so already with the mad idea of a bet.

He waited her out, and his patience paid off. The moment she looked back up at him, her face resolute, he knew he'd won her over. "Okay, I'll give you a kiss if you win," she agreed. "But if I win, I want something from you, too."

At this point, he'd give her anything she wanted, just so they could get to work. He was really looking forward to winning and collecting his reward. "What would you like?"

"I want you to go with me to Slughorn's Christmas party."

He blinked, surprised. "Didn't I already blackmail you with that obligation a few weeks ago?"

"So?" she bristled, defending her position. "It's what I want."

He chuckled and shook his head. The woman was mad. She was betting him a date that he'd already weaseled out of her fair and square. "Okay," he easily acquiesced, "it's a bet."

They shook on it. Her small hand curling around his was spine-tingling.

He turned and put that thrumming energy to work, determined to win this contest. As he reached the stack and grabbed the books he needed, he pulled a piece of strawberry gum out of its package, popped it into his mouth, and began chewing in earnest.

**X~~~~~X**

Two hours later, he was almost finished with his research.

Thank Merlin for Nott's cleverness! The gum his friend had given him had served as a strong motivator for him to quickly move through the work, reminding him of the juicy reward waiting at the end. The gum hadn't lost any of its potency in the last two hours, either. With each chew, the flavor of sweet strawberries flooded his mouth. He couldn't wait to share that with Hermione.

_Last reference_, he thought in triumph, furiously scratching down the final notation. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her start to close her own book. She seemed to do it in slow motion, as if wanting to prolong the moment. He finished scribbling the last of the information on Maidenhein petals, and with a flourish, he slammed his book at the same moment as the cover of her book closed, too. They glanced at each other.

"Finished," he triumphantly heralded.

"Me, too," she pronounced.

He grinned. "Guess we both win."

She licked her lips again, clearly nervous, and nodded. "So it would seem."

He tossed his quill down on the table and scooted down the bench until his hip connected with hers. Mere inches separated them. "Well, you win one date with me to Slughorn's party in December," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "That will set tongues wagging, yeah?"

To his disappointment, she didn't play back, as he'd expected. Instead, her expression reflected her concern. He watched her fingers twirl her quill back and forth as if it was suddenly the most important thing in the world. She'd done the same with the ribbon a few days ago, too. Apparently, she fidgeted with whatever was in her hands when she was distressed.

He knew a better use for those hands.

Turning, he flung his left leg over the bench, straddling it, and reached out with his right hand to stop her fiddling. "I'd like to take my reward now, Hermione," he softly murmured, his fingertips gliding down the quill to intimately brush against hers. "But only if you want to. I won't make you do anything you don't want."

Her breathing grew shallow, and she closed her eyes. "I… don't mind."

Draco lifted two fingers, and turned her face to him by applying pressure to the bottom of her jaw. She kept her eyes shut, and he felt a tremor flow through her. "Granger, look at me."

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she coloured a dusky hue as their gazes locked.

"Tell me what you want me to do." He'd let her slide on admitting to wanting to kiss him, but this time, he was going to make her definitively admit that she wanted this. He wasn't going to be accused of taking this kiss from her without her permission.

Her eyes flicked back and forth between his lips and eyes. Draco waited with the patience of a snake, not giving in to her reticent signal. Finally, her eyes became pleading. "I want you to kiss me, Malfoy," she breathed. _"Please."_

His heart squeezed in his chest at her brave supplication, and all of his good intentions simply dissolved away at the desperation in her tone. She wanted him. It was more than obvious now. And he wanted her… Christ, did he ever want her! With a reckless desire, he aggressively captured her lips, savouring her familiar taste around a soul-deep groan. As their tongues twined with a lush, fiery passion, Draco once more lost all rationality, giving his will over to the arousing feelings.

She tasted just as sweet as he remembered!

That strange compulsion to be as close to her as possible overtook him. Her kisses became an addicting drug, and he needed more, right now, without hesitation or doubt. _I want you so much,_ he thought, his arms coming around her. _For anything… for everything._

As if that strange and powerful magical connection that laced and knotted their hearts up each time they touched allowed her to hear his deepest desires, Hermione turned on the bench and threw her arms around his neck. Feathering her fingers through his hair, she latched on and kissed him back with a crazed enthusiasm. The feel of her nails raking across his skull… That darker part inside of Draco's heart came forward once more, directing his movements. With a growl, he intensified his hold on her as his mouth trailed down her throat. Nudging her collar with his nose, he bit the creamy skin over her pulse to mark her once again as _his_. She gasped, gripping him tighter, pulling him in - seducing him with her innocence.

Without thought or care to the consequences, he reached down and, tilting her thighs, moved his lover into a straddling position over his lap. With a quick shove, his hands bunched her skirt to her waist, and he cupped her backside, grinding her pelvis against his steely erection. Only a few layers of cloth separated them from each other now.

_Take her again!_ the sinister presence in his head shouted. _Fuck her hard! Make her scream! _

Draco's spirit struggled against the forcible demands. No. _NO!_ He didn't want to hurt Hermione again! Silently, he prayed to Salazar, Merlin and God for help while simultaneously seeking a physical anchor to keep his body in check. His hand moved of its own volition, reaching up and gripping Hermione's braid…

Red fire burst behind his closed eyelids.

The darkness inside flinched.

With an extreme force of will, Draco pushed back on the impulses that tore through him and shoved the malevolent side of his personality into the farthest reaches of his mind once more. He clamped down on his mental discipline, using the teachings his Aunt Bella had given him in Occlumency this past summer to restrain his devilish counterpart behind an imaginary barrier. It snarled at him, but remained at bay, wary of the red flame that seemed to flicker before his very eyes.

Control thusly restored, he forcibly slowed things down between he and Granger. He tenderly cupped her face, tapering off their hot blooded kiss with delicious, slow nips. When her zeal cooled and she began following his lead, he pulled his mouth away and hugged her to him instead, burying his face in her hairline, inhaling her wonderful scent. She burrowed into the crook of his neck, and he intuitively could sense her embarrassment over the loss of her restraint. For long moments, neither spoke, too overwhelmed by what they'd just experienced.

Eventually, her heart and breathing slowed to match his, and finally her body's trembling ceased altogether. As she lay passively in his arms, Draco nuzzled her soft, bound plait, noting the brilliant red fire that the interwoven magical ribbon gave off. _I never want to let you go_, he thought, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of her skin against his where their cheeks touched. _Can't we just stay like this?_

Her fingertips idly stroked the hair at the back of his neckline, arousing him again by running over one of his erogenous zones. He shuddered and reached up and back to quickly, gently capture her hands. It was time to stop. He wasn't _that_ much of an oak. He pulled her arms from around his neck and considerately removed her from his lap, feeling an empty, painful ache in his loins as she moved off of him. He kept a hold of her hands, stroking them with his thumbs to reassure her. "That was nice," he murmured.

Her eyes were glazed, insensible. She merely nodded in response.

"Perhaps we should bet more often," he teased, reaching up to stroke her bottom lip with his thumb.

She swallowed. "I'd… definitely like that."

His jaw nearly dropped into his lap. Was she saying what he _thought_ she was saying? "Do you want to try again?" he asked her, hesitant in the assumption. "Us, I mean. Not just the kissing."

Draco could literally feel her spine stiffen and her muscles tense, even as she nodded.

"No misunderstandings this time, Granger," he warned. "If you want me, then just say it."

"Do you really love me?" she countered, gripping his hands in a fierce, sweaty hold.

Taken aback by the question, he hesitated. She'd walked out on him the only time he's said those three important words to her – the only time in his life he'd said them to anyone aside from his mother - and that had been quite painful. Truthfully, he was afraid of a repeat rejection. It wasn't in his nature to be so bold, or to recover so quickly from such a harsh rebuff as the one he'd received from her that afternoon, after they'd… well, after _the incident_ between them.

He'd paused a little too long, apparently. Granger's face closed down, and she abruptly yanked her hands from his as if burned, pushing backwards on the bench.

In that same moment, they both heard the loud creak of the main library door open, and footsteps approach.

_Shite, Sluggie's back!_

Acting on some unspoken cue, they synchronized jumping away from each other, and began gathering up their parchments of research, books, quills and ink pots.

Draco knew he only had seconds to fix his mistake. "Yes," he whispered to her. "I really do."

He hadn't directly said the "L" word, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw his reply had been more than satisfactory. Hermione paused in her tidying up and smiled in pleasure. The tension in the room dropped by degrees, and Draco inwardly sighed in relief.

At least he'd done _something_ right this week!

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:**

**The ****Voynich Manuscript = A handwritten book approx. 15****th**** century in origin. ****Although many possible authors have been proposed, the author, ****script****, and****language****remain unknown. It has been described as "the world's most mysterious manuscript". Generally presumed to be some kind of****ciphertext****, the Voynich manuscript has been studied by many professional and amateur****cryptographers****, including ****American****and****British****code breakers****from both****World War I****and****World War II****. Yet it has defied all decipherment attempts, becoming a****historical cryptology**_**cause célèbre**_**. The mystery surrounding it has excited the popular imagination, making the manuscript a subject of both fanciful theories and novels. (Wikipedia reference)**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter: **

**"What About Now?" by Chris Daughtry (Draco's thoughts about Hermione)**


	22. Ch 22: Let The Covers Fall Away

**Chapter Twenty-two: ****Let The Covers Fall Away**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**& Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**_

_**November 16, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione woke up on Saturday morning feeling a powerful urge to both laugh and scream. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, feeling a bit dazed and giddy.

Could last night have really happened?

Recalling the previous evening's events in a flash, she hugged her pillow to her chest and squealed into it with unabashed glee. Somehow, some way, after everything horrible that had happened between them, she had managed to secure Draco Malfoy's promise of love! He'd even willingly proposed that they begin their relationship anew, and all without her urging! She was so happy that she felt like bursting; she wanted to run down the hallways shouting her joy for the whole world to know. She felt like the luckiest person alive today.

Her emotions were rollercoaster high - unnaturally amplified, and most likely a result of the lust-love enchantment that had mysteriously ensnared her.

Strangely, that thought didn't detract at all from her excitement.

She wondered for a moment if her lack of concern was a side-effect of the bizarre spell, or if it was something more innate to her character. She would be the first to admit that she'd always felt rather… _unattractive_… to the opposite sex. Ron's treatment of her – as if she were just another one of his mates – had really shaken her confidence over the years. Coupled with Viktor's waning interest in her (his owls were very infrequent now – one every few months), and she had been beginning to wonder if there was something to the whole courtship process that she just wasn't grasping.

Having someone as handsome and sexy as Malfoy notice her, however… The truth was, she was feeling rather accomplished for having turned his head. It was pure vanity, she knew, and the more modest, rational part of her brain was somewhat embarrassed at such conceit. The feminine side of her personality, however, was finally waking up again after a long nap, and finding that it liked the attention that Malfoy gave.

She'd won his love. How many women could say that?

Pulling Draco's handkerchief out from the inside of her pillow case – her secret housing for it while she was sleeping - she brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply. The sultry bergamot and amber scent was starting to fade from the cloth, much to her disappointment. However, there was enough residual essence to bring her back to the memories of the night before. She tingled to her toes imagining Draco's smoldering, silver eyes challenging her.

"_And what do I get if I win?"_

She sighed remembering his soft, seductive voice.

"_Tell me what you're willing to give…"_

She licked her lips and shivered in renewed desire from the lingering strawberry flavor. That sweet aroma and sugary tang had driven her mad as he'd dipped his tongue into her mouth, teasing and tasting her.

Leaning back against her headboard, she closed her eyes and let the recollections wash over her…

His expert handling of her – an enflaming combination of hot desire and reckless touch - had left her breathless and wanting more. So caught up in the feelings, she'd almost begged him _not_ to stop when he'd pulled her off his lap. In fact, she had rather naughtily tried to get him to pick up where they'd left off by running her fingers through his hair, as she knew he liked, but he hadn't taken the bait.

She lay back in bed and lamented that lost chance. Sure, Draco had done the right thing in halting them when he had, but there was a tiny part of her – the hidden, impish part that wanted to fling caution to the wind and ride out the storm ala Gryffindor style - that was disappointed that he had. Some "bad boy" he was!

The last thought stopped her cold. What was she thinking? For Godric's sake, she sounded like Lavender Brown, didn't she? She was acting absurd, like some silly, little girl with her first crush. Really, this kind of behavior was far beneath her…

And she mentally checked herself again, as a dawning understanding took hold in Hermione's mind: Ginny had been right! She _did_ make a habit of sabotaging her own happiness by hiding behind propriety. Truly, what the heck did it matter to anyone if she was behaving like a naïve first-year for a short while, and then only inside her mind? And what was so wrong about engaging in and later fantasizing about a totally exciting moment with a boy she was in love with? She wasn't hurting anyone doing so, and it felt _good_. Most importantly, it wasn't anyone else's business.

This was exactly what Ginny had meant, she realized. Her friend had understood that Hermione had been denying her basic needs and desires for too long, and that doing so had repressed her to the point where she subverted her own happiness.

"_Besides, you shouldn't deny your feelings, at least not to yourself… __Who would you be hurting if you gave yourself this chance?_

And really, that was the big question, wasn't it?

"_…if anyone can turn Malfoy from his family's legacy, it's you."_

What if Ginny was right? Merlin, hadn't Professor Dumbledore even encouraged her along this same path?

"_I feel young Mr. Malfoy is going to need a caring, brave and _strong _heart near him this year.__"_

If she followed her best friend's advice, and Dumbledore's urgings, she knew that she could lose her very soul - would be vulnerable to being broken into so many pieces that she might never right herself again. In exchange, she could possibly gain so much more: she could redeem him, and win his soul back from darkness.

Was such a fight worth it?

Yes, of course it was.

"_…if it's real between you two, you can overcome anything."_

Even though she wasn't sure of what the future held, and she was convinced that what Ginny had said was an unwitting portent to a long, hard fight to come, Hermione was still willing to _try_, to battle for what she wanted. No matter his past, the Draco that she knew in private – the one she'd kissed just last night - was worth saving. She would give it her best effort, and pray for a good outcome.

Her decision to stop worrying about what others thought and hope for the best at last made, she shored up her resolve. Today was a new day and it was best to start it off on a good foot and with a brave face! She punched her fist into the air to punctuate her determination…

…her stomach abruptly growled in protest to being empty.

Merlin, she was starved!

Tilting her head to the side, she could see muted light peeking through the gaps in her bed curtains but couldn't tell the exact time. It might be dawn, but then again, given it was winter and it always rained or snowed in this part of Scotland at this time of year, it could very well be the afternoon already. She stretched, grabbed for her Sandkeeper on the table by her bed and blinked twice to focus on the small numbers. It was five past ten in the morning.

Fudge, she was in danger of missing breakfast if she didn't get a move on!

Hermione leapt out of bed, grabbed her toiletries and a shower cap (so her hair wouldn't get wet – she'd just washed it the day before, and curly hair should never be washed so frequently, she knew from years of experience), and reached into the built-in, communal linen shelf for a fresh towel. Then she hurried off towards the girl's bathroom, deciding to skip using the Prefect's larger and more private bath space on the fifth floor to save time.

Fifteen minutes later, she was out of the shower, dried off and dressed in casual Muggle clothes. She put her hair back into a pony tail, and wrapped Draco's ribbon about it, tying it into a bow and letting the ends tail down into her curls. Putting her shower kit back in her room, she went looking for Ginny. She'd have to update her friend on last night's progress.

As she walked through the dorm hallway, she hummed to herself. For the first time in months, she was optimistic about the future.

**X~~~~~X**

Arriving in the Great Hall at the tail end of breakfast, Hermione barely had time to stop the house-elves from Disapparting all of the food at her table before she could grab a bite. There were only a few stragglers hanging about the dining area at this hour, and most of those were in small groups, playing wizard's chess or studying together. There were a few loners here and there, too - like Theodore Nott, who was the sole individual at Slytherin's table. Hermione had never officially been introduced to the fellow, but she knew he was in her level, as they had shared years of classes together. As she glanced at him while taking her seat on the bench at Gryffindor's table across the room from him, it seemed strange that she'd never held out a hand to him and said hello. Perhaps she'd correct that this year, as she'd occasionally seen him and Draco speaking in the hallways or in classes, which indicated that they were friends, of a sort.

Ginny came and sat at her side as she ate her traditional breakfast – a buttered scone and warm spiced tea with honey. Her friend had already partaken of her first meal of the day earlier with Harry, Ron and the others, so she skipped elevenses and sipped instead at a dark Assam tea, listening as Hermione began her blow-by-blow accounting of the prior evening. She'd finished her tale and took a sip of her Ceylon blend, washing down the last of the scone.

"Strawberries, huh?" Ginny was intrigued. "We should definitely go to Honeyduke's this afternoon to find out which candy that was. Sounds yummy!"

Hermione had forgotten that today was a Hogsmeade break. Her good day suddenly looked even brighter. She'd definitely be going into the village! "We should stop in at The Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer while we're there," she conspired with her girlfriend.

Ginny grinned. "A Butterbeer or _three_, you mean."

They shared a conspiratorial chuckle. It was a secret Gryffindor house rule that you always drank any fermented beverage in threes. Why that was, Hermione had no idea, but it was said to be bad luck to break the ritual. Supposedly, every Gryffindor had kept the tradition since the inception of the House, and they were further tasked to pass on that knowledge to every subsequent generation upon their first allowance into Hogsmeade.

It had been Gin's older brothers, Fred and George, who had first told her of the superstition - which is why she strenuously doubted its authenticity (especially since she could find no written reference to such a nonsense practice in any texts on Gryffindor House). However, it was one indulgence she also happened to enjoy, so saw no reason to openly debate its legitimacy. After all, it was probably the most inoffensive edict that the twins had ever invented, if it was, in fact, their own home-brewed fiction. And besides, Butterbeer was delicious!

Hermione wondered if she would see Draco down in the village later. Maybe they could even get in a snog – or _three_ - down by the Shrieking Shack, where she knew no one liked to go. She knew it was wishful thinking, but couldn't help herself the fancy.

She and Ginny made their way back to the dorm soon after to collect their coats, hats and mittens. Around noon, they strolled out of the castle, arm-in-arm, and walked to the main gate to catch a cart to the Village.

They were dropped off at the Hogsmeade Station shortly thereafter, and walked down the main street to their agreed upon first stop, Honeyduke's, to look for strawberry flavored candy. When Hermione described what she knew of the item to the shop owner's wife, Mrs. Flume, the older woman gave her a sly, significant smile. Hermione felt her blush crawl up her cheeks as she was pointed to the display of Drooble's candy. She picked up a packet of Strawberry Gum, took one sniff of it, and fell in love with the scent all over again. This was definitely the same aroma. She bought a pack for both she and Gin, so her friend could try it out on Dean later (or Harry, if things changed anytime soon on that front).

As the girls exited the shop, the sky abruptly opened up and cold, yucky sleet fell down upon them. They ran all the way back down the road towards The Three Broomsticks for a warm Butterbeer, letting their hats and coats deflect against the weather. It wasn't that far of a jaunt, after all, to require the effort of a Shield Charm.

When they arrived on the stoop of their destination, the two friends shook off the wet that had splattered them, took their hats off, wiped their feet on the thick welcome mat, and entered the pub, closing the door quickly behind to keep out the chill. Hermione glanced around. The place was busy; a few empty tables remained, but none immediately near the fire. Ginny wound her way through the crowd to one of her favorite spots in the front right corner, not too far from the bar, and Hermione followed behind. As they sat in the sturdy wooden chairs at a small, round table, Madam Rosmerta came instantly to their side to take their order. Within another minute, they each had a Butterbeer in hand. They proceeded to clink their glasses together with a salute for good health, and drank up.

Hermione looked around again at the room. She waved to Terry Boot, Ernie Macmillan, Lisa Turpin, and Kevin Entwhistle who sat at a table across the room, and noted the faces of more than a few seventh-years gathered in bunches about the room, as well as more than a few adults here and there, but the one face she was looking for was nowhere to be seen. She felt a bit disappointed.

"Looking for _him?_" Ginny teased.

Hermione bit her lip. Merlin, she really was like a first-year with a crush!

"He'll show eventually," her best girl friend predicted with a shrug of her shoulders. "There are only so many places a person can hide on or around the campus. The question we should be discussing is how are we going to arrange your next chance to be alone with him?" Ginny asked around another sip of her drink. "You can't keep getting detention. You're a Prefect, and it'll ruin your chances for Head Girl next year if you're slapped on the wrist too many times this year."

Hermione had been wracking her brains over this exact issue in the shower earlier this morning, and still hadn't come up with a good plan. "No idea," she confessed. "I have no experience at this sort of thing, you know. What would you do?"

Ginny grinned and suggestively waggled her russet eyebrows. "I'd invite them to Hogsmeade for a secret rendezvous."

Hermione elbowed her friend and laughed. "Be serious."

"I am," her companion stated, almost done with her drink. Hermione had barely sipped hers. "I'd send a note for my guy to meet me at Madam Puddifoot's or here. They're the best places to be alone, aside from the empty dorm rooms that every House has as spares."

Hermione was suddenly embarrassed to ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Did you ever… go into one of those empty rooms… with a boy?"

The other witch tensed up, stopped drinking and glanced out of the corner of her eye at Hermione, assessing her with a sharp gaze. "Would you think less of me if I said 'yes'?"

Hermione shook her head. "You know me better than that."

Ginny physically relaxed. "Then, yes."

"Who was it, if you don't mind me asking?" Her curiosity was unquestionably piqued.

"Michael Corner," her friend stated with a bit of a grimace.

To say Hermione was surprised was an understatement, as she hadn't thought Gin and Michael had been very heavy or hot for each other. In fact, she'd believed him to have been just someone for her friend to practice her kissing technique on. That they'd gone into an empty dorm room together meant that they'd done more than snog. How much, though? "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You'd dated him off and on for the past two years."

"Something like that," the girl admitted, staring at the rim of her glass. Her face was pinked.

"So, he was your…um, first?" Hermione tentatively asked, stepping over an invisible marker between them that hadn't been crossed before. She was upping the ante on their friendship by asking Gin to divulge such very personal information, but since _she'd_ already, unwittingly shared _her_ weaknesses with her best girlfriend, it only seemed fair.

Besides, to tell the whole truth, having had sex with a man had interminably altered Hermione. It had divided her completely from her childhood and thrust her unprepared into adulthood very suddenly and unexpectedly. As a result, she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She needed to analyze such an important, life-altering event so she could come to terms with the abrupt change. She was now understandably curious to know how other girls' first sexual experiences rated by comparison to her own. That, she reasoned, would give her a baseline upon which to start her own analysis from.

Ginny nodded, taking another sip. "First everything, I guess you could say."

Hermione took a sip of her Butterbeer for courage. "Was it nice?"

Her friend paused and then shook her head, swallowing her drink before answering. "Not a bit. He didn't know what he was doing, there was no foreplay, and it lasted all of two minutes. I never got off."

Hermione's cheeks were like two hot, scarlet beacons. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard! Corner hadn't touched Ginny's body while making love to her? He'd taken the girl's virginity and hadn't even kissed her? What kind of cold-hearted jerk did that? Malfoy had, at least, kissed and touched _her_ into insensibility. He had even made her scream in pleasure before taking his own, she had to admit. "Did he tell you that he loved you at least?" she wondered aloud, then was shocked by her own audacity. "Oh, I'm sorry! You don't have to answer that!" she offered, embarrassed by her thoughtlessness.

Her friend shook her head and shrugged again. "No, he didn't say anything to me. He took me to one of the unused Ravenclaw rooms in the boy's dorm, we took off our clothes, I lay down on a bare mattress, and he got on top. It hurt the whole time, because I wasn't ready down there. A few minutes later, he finished, got up and we redressed. We didn't say anything to each other after. He did hold my hand on the way back to The Fat Lady's portrait, but I think that was more out of awkwardness and guilt." She put her glass down, leaned her cheek on a hand and looked directly at Hermione. Her voice was very low, so that only the two of them could hear. "The sex got better the more we did it, but Michael never loved me, and I never loved him. We were just experimenting."

Hermione felt a lump of sympathy clog her throat. A girl's first time – _every time_ - should be special. To her, consensual sex was not just supposed to be a means to an end. It was supposed to be a fusion of two bodies wrapped up in beautiful feelings. Maybe that kind of thinking was a tad over the top romantic and unfashionable today to espouse, but it was what she believed. She'd grown up knowing her mother had desperately loved her father, and when they'd finally had the "sex talk" when she was fourteen, she'd learned that her mum had only ever been with her dad. She'd thought the notion to be splendid, and had wanted to emulate such a relationship when she was ready. The idea of having sex without a deeper connection to your partner, just for the sake of "getting off" (as she'd heard Lavender call it) seemed to cheapen the experience, in her opinion.

Of course, she knew she could never voice such sentiment for fear of both insulting and hurting Ginny, but she couldn't help but feel that her friend had been terribly cheated. She only hoped that someday, when Harry finally noticed her, he would be a kind lover to her best girl friend to make up for the thoughtless, inept Michael Corner.

"You know, 'Mione," Gin interrupted her contemplation. "I wish my first time could have been more like yours. I know you said Malfoy was rather rough with you when you finally…um, came together… but at least he made sure your pleasure came before his own. At least he told you he loved you and meant it. That he was caught up in the moment and was a complete arse isn't excusable, but there had been passion between you two, you said. You didn't sell yourself short, like I did. I regret my first time more because I knew even as I lay down on the bed that Michael didn't _really_ care about me long-term – he just wanted to shag and I was a convenient hole."

Ginny's voice was laced with a bitterness she'd never heard from the girl's mouth before. It made that lump of sympathy grow until it threatened to choke her.

What could she say in reply? Absolutely nothing of consequence, that's what. There was no making something like that better. Instead, she reached out and grabbed Ginny's empty glass, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to appear. "I'll get you a refill," she murmured, got up and quickly made her way to the bar without looking back. The distraction gave her time to compose her distressed emotions.

As Madam Rosmerta was grabbing Hermione another Butterbeer, the front door to the inn opened, a cold wind blew in, and the sound of heavy sleet slapping the cobbles outside grew louder. Hermione turned her head to look over her shoulder, and nearly dropped her glass.

Draco walked in, and before he could spy her, he turned to shut the door behind him. He was with an older, very polished woman that she instantly recognized from their confrontational run-in over this past summer at Madam Malkin's shop in Diagon Alley. It was Narcissa Malfoy, his mother.

Hermione's gaze passed over the matriarch of the Malfoy family, cataloguing her physical appearance. Narcissa was, she hated to admit it, very beautiful for her age, which appeared to be somewhere in the very early-forties. She was bird thin, of medium height, had white-blonde hair pulled back into a perfect coif, piercing blue eyes, long fingers and nearly translucent skin. Under a very expensive-looking woolen, floor-length coat, she wore a well-tailored, green brocade and silk dress with black trim that stopped a few inches below her knees, showing off her lovely, toned calves and an expensive pair of black, close-toed heels. The emerald tear-drop earrings the woman wore twinkled like green stars. She carried herself with an air of aristocratic arrogance, sniffing disdainfully at the room with a glance.

From what she remembered of Lucius Malfoy, Hermione now recognized that Draco was a perfect blend of his parents' genetics.

The woman turned to Madam Rosmerta, who gave her a nod and came around the bar to attend Lady Malfoy without pause, ignoring all other patrons for the moment. Apparently, her lover's family was important clientele to the inn, as evidence by the way Rosmerta's demeanor changed from one of authoritative brusqueness to demure gentility in the bat of an eye.

Absently, Hermione reached up and touch the red ribbon in her hair, the ends of it tickling her neck over the collar of her jacket. It tingled against her fingers as she stroked against it.

As his mother and the inn's proprietor stepped around him to head upstairs towards the private suites, Draco's head snapped around to zero in on her, as if he had somehow sensed her _exact _location in the noisy, busy pub. As he focused on her, his eyes heated and darkened with undisguised lust and his lips turned up on the ends in a predatory smile. It set her blood to boiling.

With clear reluctance, he turned to the stairs to catch up with his mother, ascending the wooden steps in quick strides, and was out of sight in seconds. Hermione could not help but follow his progress, feeling a fluttering anticipation in her stomach for later, when she hoped to see him alone, if possible.

She waited by the bar until Rosmerta reappeared, collected her drinks and finally she headed back to her table, where Ginny awaited. She knew her friend had seen everything that had transpired from her well-placed corner table with the view of the whole room. Hermione felt her face flush.

Gin grinned like the Cheshire Cat and gave a low whistle of amazement. "That was one sizzling look, young lady," she ribbed. "I'd say he has plans for you later."

Hermione gulped back half her Butterbeer in one swig, trying to whet her very dry mouth. Ginny watched her with a remarked amusement.

"Better take it easy," her friend advised. "It wouldn't do to have you throw up all over him. I've seen you vomit – it's not pretty."

Putting her glass back down, Hermione didn't take another sip of beer the rest of the afternoon. Instead, she chugged back water, hoping to quickly chase the alcohol from her system.

She and Ginny continued talking for a while, although their conversation changed to much lighter topics – Quidditch, what the older Weasley boys had been up to lately, her family's plans for the Christmas holiday, and the typical romantic gossip flying around the castle. By three o'clock, though, most of the other Hogwarts students were either leaving - or had already left - to return to the castle, having had their fill of Hogsmeade or finished their shopping, and their conversation was waning. Gin had decided to go back to the dorms as well, as the weather had let up.

Hermione made no excuse for staying behind. They both understood the reason: she was hoping Draco would come back down soon so they could, perhaps, talk… and maybe take a sunset stroll over by the Shrieking Shack.

Before leaving, Ginny reached into her small purse and pulled out something which she palmed to Hermione while hugging her. "Just in case," she murmured in her ear. "Good luck!" With that, she was gone. Hermione sat back down and cautiously opened her hand under the table, making sure no one saw what she held. It was a small, purple package containing a single white pill. The outside wrapper was discreet, but informative:

_**Flavius Colton's Contraception Protection**_**  
**_**Take 1 pill with water 10 minutes before intimacy.**_**  
**_**100% protection from pregnancy - guaranteed.**_**  
**_**Does not protect against disease.**_**  
**_**Lasts 24 hours.**_

If Hermione had thought that she might die from embarrassment before, now she was sure of it. By all the Makers, what should she do with this? She didn't have any intention of sleeping with Malfoy again so soon! That wasn't until Part Three of the plan, many weeks from now, right? What was Gin thinking?

She heard the click of heels coming down the stairs and looked up in time to see Lady Malfoy descending. When the woman reached the bottom step, she nodded to Madam Rosmerta and marched through the exit without a backward glance, her long coat billowing about her legs. The oak front door slammed shut behind her, blown about by the light, winter winds.

Hermione felt her heart accelerate under her ribs. She looked up towards the open balcony leading to the private rooms, and saw Draco half hidden in shadows, staring down at her. His steely gaze undecipherable, but he nudged his chin to indicate she was to come up and join him. Before she could nod or shake her head – she wasn't sure which she would have chosen, honestly - he turned and made his way back down a hallway to the right without a backward glance. He obviously didn't expect his invitation to be denied.

Honestly, she didn't want to say 'no' either.

Reaching for the package in her hand, she ripped it open and swallowed the pill contained inside. She chased it down with an entire glass of water as quickly as she could, wiped the back of her mouth, and stood on shaky legs.

Just in case.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:**

**Recommended Musical selection for this chapter: **

**"Naked" by Avril Lavigne (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**

"**Kind and Generous" by Natalie Merchant (Hermione's thoughts about Ginny)**


	23. Ch 23: The Obfuscation Game

**Chapter Twenty-three: The Obfuscation Game**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**&**_ _**Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**_

_**November 15-16, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)**_

Instead of Sluggie, his godfather, Severus, appeared at the doors of the Restricted Section to collect their assignments and escort them out of the library for the evening and back to their dormitories. Apparently, their Potions instructor had asked Slytherin's Head of House to collect the students in detention in his stead, citing some reason for skiving off the duty.

It figured that Snape, the bloody bastard, would pick the most inopportune moment to show up! Draco had wanted to get in a few more kisses with Granger, and then he had hoped to walk her back to her common room so that they could talk about the parameters of their new relationship along the way. His confederate Death Eater robbed him of that chance, however.

"I have been informed the reason for your punishment tonight, and must express how deeply disappointed I am in both of you for acting like buffoons during a Potions lesson. One would think I'd taught you nothing of how to behave while in the Laboratory over the past five years," their greasy-haired professor drawled, staring them both down with black, half-lidded eyes that reflected his displeasure. "If, in the future, your tempers were to get the better of either of you again, especially in my own classroom…" Snape droned on, pausing with the implied threat hovering in the air, "well, that would be _most_ unfortunate. Do I make myself clear?"

He hadn't been specific in the punishment, but the message was unmistakably received. Snape was, after all, a master at inventing truly awful detentions for students to serve. The threat alone was enough to deter.

He and Hermione both muttered their acknowledgement, but honestly, Draco was unfazed by both the speech and the look, as by now, he was used to this man's sarcasm and cutting tongue. Hermione, however, dropped her eyes to the floor, truly chastised and obviously mortified by the verbal dressing down. Odd behavior from her, since he knew she broke rules all the time with and for Potter – none more obvious than the lie she'd told last year to lure Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest – so surely this must be old hat for her. Yet, she sincerely looked as if Snape's censure mattered.

His witch's conscience was both a good and a bad thing, as it made him respect her, but at the time same, made him realize that it just might stand in the way of their relationship someday. What if they started something in secret, but she couldn't follow through with it because of guilt?

Maybe they shouldn't be a secret, then.

He gave the matter some thought as he turned to leave the Restricted Section behind her and their professor. As they walked out for the night, the main library doors shut behind them, locking up.

"Miss Granger, I expect you can be trusted to see yourself to your dormitory without an escort?" their teacher asked. She nodded. "Then do so without fail." His attention shifted to Draco. "Just a moment, Mr. Malfoy."

The man detained him with a tight grip around his left forearm, as he made to follow Hermione down the corridor towards the Grand Staircase. At the contact, the Dark Mark under Draco's skin crawled, as if slimy worms wriggled under the flesh. It was a cold and very uncomfortable feeling, as if the tattoo were a living, breathing thing that sensed another Death Eater's touch, even craved it with eager, masochistic rapture. He felt repulsed to his very soul by the reaction, and jerked his arm away with a quiet snarl. The arm returned to normal the moment Snape's hand left his body.

He glared at his godfather instead, angry at the man for pawing at him and for keeping him from Hermione. "Don't touch me… sir," he requested in a tight voice.

Snape narrowed his eyes, clearly not liking Draco's tone.

Fortunately, Hermione hadn't noticed the exchange. She had her back to them and was nearing the end of the hallway, obeying the last order given her. When she reached it, she turned the corner to go up the stairs and was gone from sight a moment later. Draco had to pretend not to be disappointed.

"You will follow me," his godfather commanded, sweeping past him with a swish of his long, black robes. Together, they headed down into the dungeon, towards the professor's office.

Draco knew what his godfather wanted to talk to him about: his "assignments" from Lord Voldemort. He knew Snape was probably keeping tabs on him, updating the Dark Lord as to his progress. He didn't really want to discuss the matter of his last failure again, and he didn't want to divulge plans for any future attempts, either, since he'd decided this week that there was no way in hell he was going through with killing the Headmaster. He didn't want any part of such madness.

He especially didn't want to be alone with Snape; the man was a highly skilled Legilimens, and Draco was worried that his plans to defect might be drawn from his mind if he wasn't careful. He knew he'd have to strongly shield his mind against invasion tonight to prevent this from happening. It was time to start utilizing the trick he'd taught himself this past summer…

When they reached Snape's office, the man hurried Draco inside, shut the door behind him, cast a few spells to prevent being heard and spied upon, then sat at his desk and stared at him with dark, unfathomable eyes. Draco very calmly took the chair in front of Snape's desk and met the man's gaze, knowing what was coming. In less than ten seconds, he felt that familiar pressure behind his eyes telling him that his fears had been rightly founded.

So, his mentor could silently cast _Legilimens_. Interesting. His Aunt Bella had been able to as well.

Tapping out a beat against the inside of his left wrist's pulse with the fingers of his right hand, Draco simply stared back at his godfather, grasping at random lyrics for one of his favorite Muggle songs to throw the man off:

_Today is greatest day I've ever known...  
Can't live for tomorrow.  
Tomorrow's much too long._  
_I'll burn my eyes out before I get out._

_I wanted more than life could ever grant me,_  
_bored by the chore of saving face._

_Today is the greatest day I've ever known..._  
_Can't wait 'til tomorrow._  
_I might not have that long._  
_I'll tear my heart out before I get out._

_Pink ribbon scars that never forget…_  
_I've tried so hard to cleanse these regrets._  
_My angel wings were bruised and restrained._  
_My belly stings._

_Today is... today is... today is the greatest day that I have ever known._

Draco knew from experience that visions of walls, doors, fog, fences and other such barriers could eventually be torn down by a good Legilimens. Such magical specialists were, after all, trained to find cracks in seemingly impenetrable mind defenses and exploit them until the mind unhinged for them. But modern Muggle music - now that was something altogether different. Most of the rest of the older wizards couldn't fathom its appeal, couldn't figure out how to un-jumble the mess that such sound made in a person's mind. In modern song one could literally lose his or herself to the rhythm, live the beat in their own heart, forget everything else for just a little while, and just float along with the feeling. It was a lot like good sex in that way.

And therein lay music's power over the magic of mind reading: it _created_ emotional chaos.

Such a clever bit of obfuscation was not a defensive tactic to hide behind, either, but an offensive ploy to fight back with. That was something most Legilimens, who were all about forceful mind rape and who expected people to hide away in fear, couldn't grasp. It's why this particular trick worked so well.

He'd discovered this tidbit quite by accident this past summer, when his Aunt Bellatrix had been teaching him Occlumency. At first, the witch had been confused by his internal singing, as it kept her from ordering his thoughts into one coherent stream to be understood. Later, she'd been royally brassed off when she realized that she couldn't grasp the strands of his memory any longer; the cacophony of noise he threw at her, coupled with the myriad of feelings that were associated with certain lyrics tumbling around in his head had made his thoughts slip right through her psychic fingers. In two short months, she'd proclaimed him to be an effective Occlumens to her Master.

He kept singing in his head, waiting for Snape to lose patience. It wasn't long in coming – less than two minutes at most before the pressure in his head ceased. He stopped tapping.

"That is a very annoying trick, boy," his godfather commented, crossing his arms and nodding. He seemed impressed. "Very good."

Draco graciously accepted the compliment with a grin and a jaunty nod of his head. "Thank you, sir. It certainly drives Aunt Bella spare."

The corners of Snape's flat mouth twitched up for an instant, as if to grin. "Indeed. I can see why." The dark wizard stood and came around the desk to lean on its edge over Draco, crossing his arms again. "We need to talk about your assignments."

Draco expected no less. He said nothing, waiting, not offering anything up.

"Do you have another plan to take care of the Headmaster?" his Head of House asked.

Draco smirked and leaned back in his chair, adopting an indolent and haughty role to cover up the lies that were to tumble from his mouth. "Of course."

When he didn't disclose any details, Severus grew agitated. "And the cabinet?"

"Slow going," Draco stated, nonchalant in glancing at his fingernails as if looking for dirt or to determine their shine. "I already told you: it'll take months to fix. It's in too poor a shape for people to use. I can't even Apparate an apple in it without it coming back with chunks missing. Montague surviving being shoved in it that time was one in a hundred, really - the lucky bastard."

In truth, he hadn't worked a lick on the cabinet in over a month. He'd planned on doing it only in his spare time, so as to prolong its repair. Hopefully, if things worked out with his mother's support, he wouldn't even have to bother with it ever again.

"Allow me to help you," Snape offered for the tenth time.

Draco snarled, putting more heat into his voice than he really felt, trying to keep up the act. "No! These were _my_ tasks. _He _gave them to _me_. He trusts me. I don't need you!"

Snape shook his head, his expression one of disgust. "Foolish boy, you have no idea why you're _really _here, do you?"

Draco was instantly wary. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Severus reigned in his temper, stood up, swept back around his desk and sat down again in his chair, his face once more blank, indecipherable. "Try to refrain from antagonizing Miss Granger further this year, Draco," he advised, changing subjects. "It would be unwise to invite the kind of attention she normally attracts."

He didn't answer at first, studying his godfather, trying to glean any sort of double meaning from his words, but could find nothing that may have hinted that his godfather knew what was going on between he and Granger. "I'll take that under advisement," he replied.

"Do so," Snape dismissed him, turning to a pile of student's papers to his left.

Draco got up and left the office, making sure to sing lyrics in his head until he was out of line of sight, just in case.

He headed down the corridors towards his common room on swift feet, a headache starting to come on from all of the concentrating he'd been doing to block the Legilimency attempts. He slid in through the Slytherin portal after uttering the correct password and headed down the great stone staircase, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers. As he passed the couch, he caught Pansy and Blaise engaged in some serious snogging, and for some odd reason, that made his stomach turn over. He had absolutely no feelings for his ex any longer, but the idea of her screaming her bloody head off as she got fucked by Zabini in their shared dorm was not something he was looking forward to hearing tonight.

Rushing past them, he made his way up to his room, stripped out of his clothes, set his wand to wake him in the morning, and threw his naked body under the covers, calling it a night.

**X~~~~~X**

Draco woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. Fuck, but he hated having a migraine! The night's rest hadn't helped to eradicate it. Instead, it had only made the pressure in his head worse.

It was because of his dreams - they had been filled with visions of Hermione. He had starred in every different scenario that played out over the long night as her torturer, and quite often her rapist, too. In the last, he'd even strangled her to death. Her eyes had bulged as his hands crushed her windpipe, and in her gaze, there was the shock of betrayal.

He felt sick to his stomach and his chest ached at the thought of ever hurting her again. It was this "other" inside his head; he knew it had been he who had cast such visions and thoughts into Draco's subconscious mind. It was growing stronger inside of him as time passed. Usually, he could overpower it with his strong mental shields, but sometimes – like when he was asleep, or when his emotions were rioting, and especially when he was touching Granger – it crept through small cracks in his psychic walls, seeping its evil into him. He could feel its compulsions to hurt Hermione, to seek her out and dominate her. It seemed obsessed with her, as if it sensed her importance to Draco and wanted to punish them both for it.

On the stand by his bed, his wand buzzed and chirped with the alarm he'd pre-set. "Bollocks!" he barked sitting up, startled by the sound. An ice pick of pain stabbed through his head and he groaned. Closing his eyes, he groped around like some sort of pathetic, drunken sod until his hand closed over his wand and he was able to magic the bloody thing quiet.

Slytherin's cock-hound, he didn't have time to sit here and rehash his nightmares, as he had a meeting today with his mother in Hogsmeade at lunch to discuss how he was going to get out of the mess he was in with the Dark Lord. First, he would need to make a trip to the Hospital Wing to get some medication to make his head stop pounding, though.

He flung the curtains of his bed open…

…to find Teddy leaning against the nearby door, arms crossed, his casual, nonchalant slouch well performed.

"Morning, sunshine," the guy cracked, smirking. "Don't you look handsome today? I especially like the 'death by hootch' look you've got going on."

Draco rubbed a hand through his messy hair and gave Teddy the two-fingered salute. He was hurting just too much to come up a witty reply at the moment.

"Touchy," Nott commented, amused by Draco's suffering.

"What the fuck, man?" he growled, standing and staggering over to his dresser to reach for some clean clothes. He ran a hand over his eyes to try to rub the blurry out of them. "I've got a killer headache."

"Wow, I'm impressed," Teddy chuckled. "I've heard of being fucked until your plonker falls off, but to be A.F.U.'d from it, too? Was Granger _that _good?"

Draco stopped and turned to look at his friend, confused by the alien language coming out of the man's mouth. "A.F.U.'d?"

"All. Fucked. Up," his friend cheerfully supplied.

Draco rolled his eyes. He ignored his housemate's potty mouth, and went back to trying to pick out an appropriate outfit for seeing his mum today. His favorite adopted look this year – all black, to match his typical mood – just wasn't holding its usual appeal for him today. He wanted to dress nice to see his mother. He picked out a charcoal-grey, woolen pair of slacks, and paired it with a crisp, white dress shirt, and a dark blue jumper to layer over it. His socks and pants were black. He reached for his silver cuff links, and threw the whole lot on his bed.

That decision made, he snatched a towel from the linen shelf near Teddy and flung it over his shoulder, unconcerned that he was walking around completely starkers in front of a bloke. It had taken him a long time to adjust to not having his own room and to the concept that there was no privacy in a dormitory, but after half a dozen years, he was now quite comfortable in his nudity. The guy was his friend, anyway, nothing more.

Grabbing his shower kit next, he headed out the door without a backward glance.

"Catch you later, mate," Teddy yelled after him. "You owe me details, though. It was _my_ gum that got you some action, yeah?"

"Bloody perv," he called back.

Nott's laughter followed him down the narrow, stone corridor.

**X~~~~~X**

After he'd showered and gone to see Madam Pomfrey, Draco was feeling like his old self again. He went for breakfast in the dining hall around nine o'clock, but saw no sign of Granger for the half hour he sat at his table, hardly noticing the food that passed his lips, his eyes glued to the door for her entrance. When he finished eating, he began walking about the castle grounds searching for her. To his private dismay, her bushy head couldn't be found anywhere amongst the gaggles of students moving about here or there through the corridors or on the stairs.

A nervous, unsettling energy took him over as he left the library, his last stop. He had been unsuccessful in locating her at her favourite haunt, and as a result, worry gnawed at his bones. It was totally pussy, he knew, but he needed reassurance that his witch hadn't changed her mind since last night. After everything he'd gone through to get her back, he'd be damned if he lost her again to doubts and regrets! Besides, they needed to talk about the parameters of this new relationship they'd agreed to.

As the castle bell tolled eleven, Draco finally conceded to a temporary defeat and gave up the chase. He made his way quickly down to his dorm room, grabbed up his coat and his currency pouch, and he headed out of the castle for Hogsmeade. The priority for today had to be making arrangements with Madam Rosmerta in The Three Broomsticks to book her nicest private suite so his conversation with this mother would be private. Catching up with Granger would come later.

As he walked down to the main gate, he had to admit that he was feeling anxiety about seeing the innkeeper of The Three Broomsticks again. He'd used the Imperius Curse on her in October to help him carry out his first assassination attempt against Dumbledore. Although the woman had no memory of the event, it still _greatly_ bothered him that he'd controlled her with an Unforgivable Curse to do something evil, and that as a result, he'd hurt an innocent. Today would be the first time he'd see her again since that event.

He reached the carriage conveyance point and hopped into an empty one, shutting the door and closing the small curtain over the window so he'd be alone with his thoughts. The trip took twenty-two minutes to get to the Village, and by then, Draco had shored up his determination and walled away his concerns. Hopping out of his transportation, he made for The Three Broomsticks straight-away and booked a room under his mother's name. His coin assured there were no questions or issues with the reservation, and much to his relief, Madam Rosmerta gave no indication that she remembered their last meeting.

Minutes later, he was wandering Hogsmeade's shops with no specific direction or purpose in mind, whiling away the minutes until his mother arrived. He stopped at Honeyduke's Sweetshop first, and picked up two boxes of their most delicate and succulent chocolate truffles, imported from his favorite candy maker in Belgium. He'd give a box to Granger, hopefully later tonight - _if _he managed to actually meet up with her sometime within the next twenty-four hours - and save another for her for a special surprise sometime later. He'd decided on the ride over that they were starting over, and he wanted to do it all right this time. After all, what girl didn't like chocolate? He was sure his girlfriend did, as he vaguely recalled that she'd received a small box this past Valentine's from that swaggering wanker, McLaggen…

That thought stopped him cold. _Was_ Granger his girlfriend now? True, they'd not formalized the nature of their association, but she had agreed just last night to allow him to court her. However, he'd intended their relationship to happen in secret. Would she think that his request for them to see each other meant that they were _openly_ dating? He couldn't allow that. They could both be killed. But what would Hermione do if he explained his thoughts on the matter to her and she was offended by the idea of sneaking about to be with him? Knowing her, she'd probably take it as a sign that he was only into her for the sex, and he'd lose her again for sure.

He mulled over the dilemma while he ordered the saleswoman to box his purchases up as gifts, complete with a green ribbon, and to deliver them to the room he'd booked under his last name at The Three Broomsticks later that afternoon. He didn't want to be burdened with carrying packages with his mother coming to meet him.

Wandering over to Gladrags Wizardwear, he surveyed the shop for Christmas gifts for his mother and father, but was instead compelled to purchase a beautiful pair of ladies cream colored, lamb-skin gloves for Hermione. He thought they would make a nice gift for her, as her hands, he'd noticed on more than one occasion, were chilly to the touch. He paired it with a soft cashmere scarf that matched the color of the gloves, and paid at the counter. As before, he instructed the proprietor of this shop to package everything up and deliver it to his room at the Inn.

The Sandkeeper on the wall above the purchase counter made it known that it was almost time for him to meet up with his mother, so he made his way back to The Three Broomsticks, fighting the wind that had picked up and standing under the eaves of the pub to stay out of the drenching sleet as it fell from the sky in sheets. Thankfully, his wait was less than five minutes; the thunderous crack of someone Apparating nearby signaled that his mother had arrived. He hurried to her side and cast a modified Shield Charm over her to cover her from the foul weather, pressing a kiss to her cold cheek.

"Hello, Mother," he greeted her with great warmth and the proper respect.

"Hello, my son," his mum replied, looking about to see how many people were watching. Malfoys were ever conscientious of public displays of affection or otherwise. "Shall we go in? It's cold out here, dear."

He stepped with her to the door and held it open for her, removing the charm just as she stepped inside the Inn. Madam Rosmerta came around the bar to personally greet them, recognizing the scent of wealth in the air, and politely led his mother up the stairs to the room he had reserved for them.

Before he could take his first step to follow, Draco felt a strange thrill run through him. Warmth settled into the pit of his belly, and a sense of satisfaction – as if he'd found some precious item that he'd previously lost - overtook him.

_She's here! Look!_

It was a strange, slightly-accented woman's voice whispering in his ear, and he turned his head in the direction he was compelled, both curious and strangely anxious.

Hermione stood across the room from him, next to the bar. She fearlessly met his gaze as her hand absently caressed the fiery red ribbon she'd tied in her hair again, its ends tickling her collar. Her dark amber eyes were shining with relief, her apple-blossom cheeks were pinked with shyness, her kissable lips were parted with eager anticipation… and she was clearly watching him for her cue.

There are moments in a man's life when he is acutely aware of how much he wants a woman. This was one of those moments for Draco.

Gods, Granger was so _fucking _beautiful! Instant arousal burned fiery hot down his center and into his thighs, making him go immediately hard in his pants. Even though they were not alone, and were surrounded by a dozen people, Draco wanted her more in that moment than he ever had.

_Take her now!_ the darkness crept up once more and demanded. _Take what's ours! Make her scream for us!_

Draco beat the depraved part of his self behind his mental walls, but it was a difficult struggle. It snarled at him in fury, even as it was shoved back into the secret depths of his mind, and the stain of its passing lingered, leaving behind a desire that continued to burn hot and strong. Shite, he needed to put some distance between them so he could regain control. He needed to catch up to his mother so he could determine what was happening to him – if she knew – and how to stop it.

_I want to love you, _he tried to project with his eyes. _But not right now. We'll finish this later, when we're alone. _

As if she'd received and understood the silent message, Hermione's cheeks flushed a deep crimson and her gaze glinted with anticipation.

Reluctantly, Draco turned away from her and walked up the stairs and into the room where his mother waited for him. It was time to discuss his future.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: **

**- The song Draco thinks about is called "Today" by The Smashing Pumpkins (1993). It's on my daughter's iTunes, and I liked it. It sounded like something Draco would know, too, because (as I've already established in the story), he does like **_**some **_**Muggle things (although he'd never openly admit it), and the lyrics seem to be something he would think was ironic with the situation he's currently in. Plus, by this time, the song wasn't too out of date (3 years), and it's a classic.**

**- Recommended Music selection for this chapter: **

**"Today" by The Smashing Pumpkins (Draco's song used during Occlumency)**

"**Poison" by Alice Cooper (Draco's thoughts about his darker feelings for Hermione at the end of this chapter)**


	24. Ch 24: A Painful Truth

**Chapter Twenty-four: A Painful Truth**

_**Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**_

_**November 16, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)**_

When he arrived at the room he had reserved, Draco's mother was just settling in. She had already removed her long coat, which Madam Rosmerta had hung on a peg near the door for her, and now she primly sat down on the couch before the magically-lit fireplace, crossing her ankles and folding her hands in her lap, as was proper to her rank and station. The innkeeper offered to bring up a tray of hot spiced tea and sandwiches, and his mother nodded in approval once before dismissing the woman with a haughty wave of her hand.

When the door closed behind Madam Rosmerta, Draco removed his coat and hung it on a hook next to hers. With a few waves of his wand, he cast every spell he could think of on the entire room to keep spies from hearing or seeing any of the conversation that was about to take place. Only then did he relax, and the two finally were able to drop the façade.

Draco's mother turned to him and gave him a brilliant, warm smile. She held her hands out to him. "It is a joy to see you again, my son! Come and tell me how you have fared."

He gave her a dashing smile in answer, and crossed the room, taking her small hands in his own. He kneeled down to her height so she did not have to cramp her neck to look up at his taller frame. "I'm good," he confessed. "Better than good now."

Tears filled her eyes, and she reached over to cup his cheek with her hand. "Oh, I have missed you, my little Dragon. I worry about you constantly. I wish you would write more often and advise me as to how you are doing."

He lowered his head in shame. If there was one thing to bring Draco to his knees, it was the thought of disappointing or hurting his mother. The woman had been his sole comfort and protector against Lucius' cruelty all his life; she'd shielded him as often as she was able from his father's wrath, and removed him from the house on "errands" whenever possible so they wouldn't have to be alone with the man. Her mother's love for him was unshakable and boundless, and he was devoted to her for it.

"I'm sorry, mum, but you know why I couldn't write as often. It's too dangerous."

She tugged on his hands to indicate he should sit on the couch beside her, and he moved to accommodate her wishes. "Are you almost completed with your tasks? Are you in trouble? Is that why you have finally written to me?"

He withdrew his grip from hers, leaned his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together in a fist, and rested his mouth on them. The words he'd been rehearsing all week to explain this moment simply vanished from his mind. Now that it had come to it, he wasn't sure how to begin. He opened his mouth and out popped the raw version of his thoughts. "I can't do this anymore. I want out. I don't want to serve him anymore."

His mother gasped, so shocked by his pronouncement that she leaned back into the couch cushions, away from him. "Do you know what you're saying?"

Draco dropped his hands as his shoulders slumped forward with the weight of his anxiety and fear. "I'm turning into him, mum - I'm turning into Father!" He ran his fingers through his hair and gripped on tight. "I feel like I'm going mad!"

For a minute, she said nothing. Then, she sat up straight once more and put her hands on his cheeks, pulling him around to look her. Her beautiful, sky-blue eyes were wide with terror. "Draco Lucius Cygnus Abraxas Malfoy, explain yourself!"

He couldn't help but sniff with amusement. "Heh, you used my full name. I must _really_ be in trouble now," he teased.

By the dark expression on her face, clearly his mother didn't find any humour in the situation, and he knew her to be right. Preparing to betray the most evil wizard in either of their lifetimes was no joking matter. At the small flush of shame that ran through him, Draco dropped all pretence at joking. "Right, where do I start?" he asked, unsure when or how to begin his bizarre tale.

"At the beginning of term, when you got on that train to go off to school this year," she insisted, releasing him and settling back, her full attention riveted upon him.

He nodded, took a deep breath, and launched into his story.

By the time he'd gotten to the end of September, Madam Rosmerta knocked on the door to deliver their food tray. Draco took it from her with a polite nod of thanks. He delivered the food over to the small dining table in the room. His mother got up and joined him, stunned by what he'd told her thus far. He poured her a cup of hot tea, and cringed as he told her the rest of his tale over lunch.

He confessed to how remorseful he was over accidentally cursing Katie Bell straight into a coma, and that as a result, he'd been stalling on the tasks that the Dark Lord had set him to, plagued by doubt. He told her of the frighteningly powerful presence in his head, of where he believed it originated, and how it had recently begun to fight him for control of his own mind and body. He told her every awful thing he'd done and said to Hermione that term, and of his unexpected love for her, despite her Muggle-born status and their history together. He admitted how he was beginning to wonder if he wasn't turning into his hateful father, and how that scared him more than anything else. And he told her that all of these things together had solidified his decision to leave Voldemort's service finally. He held nothing back, laying all of his secrets at her feet, knowing that if anyone would understand and not judge him, it would be his devoted mother.

It took about an hour or so, but by the end of his tale, his mother was pacing the floor, clearly agitated.

"You _cannot _do this now, Draco. You must forget this… Muggle-born." The word rolled off her tongue with distaste, but he noticed that his mother was careful not to use any derogatory term about Hermione, as she might otherwise have previously done. "You will only end up hurting each other worse than you already have."

He shook his head to argue. "Hermione makes me happy, mum. She gives me a reason to be better. If I hadn't fallen for her, I don't think I'd have realized what was happening to me in time."

His mother laughed, and it was a bitter, unfamiliar sound from her lips. "This girl's influence will change nothing. Do you not understand _why_ you were indoctrinated into the Death Eaters this summer?"

He frowned at her implication, a cold fear rising in his chest. "Snape said something similar to me just last night. What do you both know that you're not telling, mother?"

Her face suddenly crumbled and she began crying, covering her eyes with her hands. Draco was at her side in an instant, holding her.

"Draco, don't you see?" she wailed into his chest. "You are nothing more than a punishment for your father, because he has repeatedly failed in the tasks set to him. The Dark Lord planned to kill you all along, whether by the Killing Curse or by… other means. You were never meant to succeed."

He had suspected as much, but to hear the words of Voldemort's treachery out loud was upsetting confirmation. Draco internally spat the man's name, cursing the day he'd ever genuflected before him in subjugation. "All the more reason for me to get out while I can," he resolved.

His mother shook her head against the fabric of his shirt. "You can't escape – not now, not ever. _It's the Mark._ I'd suspected its evil had tainted your father over the years, slowly poisoning him. He changed so much once he'd taken it. It was the real reason I rejected taking it myself."

Over his mother's shoulder, he glanced at his hated left forearm, where he knew the Mark lay under his clothing like a dark smudge against his pale skin. He'd been such a fool to take it. It couldn't be given without the recipient's willing agreement, and he'd given that in naïve eagerness and on bended knee, seduced by promises of retribution for the insult done to his family after his father had been arrested, and craving redemption for the Malfoy name in the Dark Lord's service, as he'd thought Lucius would expect of him. _Idiot,_ he berated himself, just as Hermione had once done, the night he'd first kissed her and fully lost his heart.

"Your father used to love me, Draco," his mother pleaded with him to understand, dragging his attention back to her here and now. "He'd _adored_ me. We were so happy when we first married. But then, he took the Dark Mark and everything changed." She was frantic now, pulling on his jumper. "And now, you talk of its growing influence on you. You say it has made you do a terrible thing to this girl that you… that you _love._"

She grabbed his left arm and pulled his sleeve up, staring at the sinister skull tattoo with both hatred and deep sadness. "If _he_ does not kill you outright for failing him, or for trying to betray him, he will continue to drive you mad through this mark. It will corrupt you until the things you love no longer matter. He will kill you by inches, my darling Dragon - just as he destroyed my beautiful Lucius!"

She buried her head in his chest, her hot tears scalding through the fabric straight to his heart, her thin shoulders shaking hard under his hands. He fully embraced her into a supportive hug, but his mind was a million miles away, horrified by what she'd just revealed.

Was there no way to escape Voldemort's hold? Had he truly doomed himself by taking the Dark Mark, as his sire had? Even more astonishing: his father had once loved his mother and had been good to her? How was any of this possible?

"You're saying… it's either die or lose my soul?" he asked, feeling a hole open up through the centre of him, hollowing him out.

His mother nodded and burst into a fresh round of hysterics, still clinging to him. He'd never seen her so vulnerable before, not even after his father had hurt her. It was as if the weight of the years – all of the horribleness she'd endured – was finally coming out. He worried she'd collapse into a heap at his feet at any moment, for she was so small and wounded.

Guiding her over to the couch so she could sit, he continued hugging her, allowing her to get all of the poison out of her soul, attempting to offer comfort with his presence and his support, mindful ever of his duty to her as her son to protect her in whatever manner he was able. "You need to leave him. We both will."

She emphatically shook her head, loosened strands from her long blonde hair tickling his nose. "It is too late for that, my son. The Dark Lord will find you wherever you go through the Mark, and I will not abandon you to his anger." She leaned back from him, and dabbed at her face with a kerchief that she pulled from the sleeve of her dress, attempting to erase the marks of her despair and regain a modicum of control. "This is a trap that I can see no escape from except by the miracle of _his_ untimely death." Her hands shook as she spoke of such heresy, but she did not flinch from the truth. "How to accomplish such a feat, however, I do not know. Bella makes it seem as if her Master has eyes in the back of his head, and we both know that he has already been resurrected from the grave once by dark, ancient magic." She shook her head in terrified awe. "He is truly a monster. Perhaps even an immortal one."

Anger flooded through Draco's veins in a rush. He was infuriated with the idea that it was inevitable that he would meet his end in such a way, tricked and cheated by fate. "No way," he determinedly resolved. "There _has_ to be a way to stop it."

His mother clamped her lips together and did not reply, her eyes staring off into the distance, confronting internal ghosts. The two sat in silence for long minutes, considering all that had been said between them this afternoon. Finally, with a deep sigh, Narcissa sniffed back the last of her tears and straightened her spine. "My Dragon, heed me: if you lose yourself to the Dark Mark, in the end, you will destroy your Miss Granger." She held her left hand out in front of her, catching the firelight against the large emerald and diamond wedding band on her ring finger. "Don't do to her what your father has done to me. If you really love her, let her go now."

At her words, Draco's heart dropped into his shoes – and the 'other' in the back of his head roared with fury. "We can't," he whispered, feeling his chest squeeze at just the thought of losing Granger again. "We'd rather die."

His mother's face shot his in a sharp jerk, and in her eyes, there was wariness and fear. "We?"

He closed his eyes and leaned forward onto his elbows again, clasping his head between his trembling hands. The headache was returning. "Just… help me find another way," he begged his mother, on the verge of tears as he shoved the darker side of his personality to the back once again, slamming down mental walls inside his head as thick and as strong as his father's prison door in Azkaban. _"Please."_

Her long, pale fingers brushed his hair back in such an achingly familiar way that he was instantly transported back to his childhood again. Every time he'd been punished by his father for some transgression, his mother would come to soothe him, to remind him that he wasn't alone, that he was loved. She'd always made the pain go away with a gentle touch or a kiss. Couldn't she do that again just this one last time? He was so bloody tired of hurting.

She sighed again. "If you can, give me time, my son. I will try for you - for both of you."

Without looking up, he felt for her fingers, grasped them and turned his head to press his lips to the tips in gratitude. His mother may not have approved of Hermione's Muggle-born status, but she had just given them her blessing. It was a start. And, given his score card lately, Draco knew he'd need all of the little victories he could get to face the long months ahead.

Narcissa's tea had gone cold by the time they returned to the table, so she decided that it was as good a time as any for her to get back to the Manor in Wiltshire. It was mid-afternoon by then, and she claimed needing time to practice on her pianoforte before dinner – something that always helped centre her and give her clarity so she could mull over problems. Draco helped his mother to put on her coat, gave her a kiss on her cheek and a hug that ended much too soon, and he walked her to the top of the stairs. Once there, they played up their anticipated roles for the public. After all, it wouldn't do for a Malfoy to appear weak out in the open, especially after all of the negative publicity garnered from his father's little trip to Azkaban this summer.

With her head held high, his mother wished him a good day, walked down the stairs and out the front door without a backward glance, assuming an air of snobbery in her step that only years of practice could perfect. He was proud of his mother for holding up so well under all of the recent stress.

His major task for the day completed, Draco turned towards more playful pursuits.

_She is down here,_ that oddly accented, female voice called his attention once more in the direction of the fiery aura that never failed to capture his attention whenever Granger was nearby.

The object of his every desire looked up just then, as if she were being compelled to seek him out as well, and they shared a telling glance. He indicated that she should come up with a jerk of his chin towards the room, and then turned back to the shadows of the hall to wait in the doorway for her, composing his thoughts.

Before his mother had left, he'd made a decision: he wasn't going to give Granger up. He would fight that sinister presence in his mind with all of his strength, continue to stall Voldemort's plan, fight anyone he had to so he could be with her, and he'd make the most of the time they had together. He'd give himself some happiness before he died, if that's what awaited him.

He stopped the glooming-and-dooming when Hermione's face appeared at the top of the stairs. Her steps were soft, but they steadily, courageously continued towards him. He admired her nerve.

"Hi," he murmured, drinking in her beauty as she finally stopped before him.

"Hi," she shyly replied.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked, trying for a casual air to ease her fears. He bet that she'd never been alone with a boy at an inn before.

She nodded. "Okay."

As she made to step past him to enter, he brushed his fingertips across one of her hands. When she didn't protest, he took it more firmly in his own and gave her a reassuring squeeze and a tentative smile, which she returned. She headed into the room, only releasing her hand from his at the last possible moment. He felt his heart leap from the implication that she didn't want to let go of him, either.

Just then, Madam Rosmerta came to the landing. Draco met her half way down the hallway, and issued a set of whispered instructions to her. She nodded in acknowledgement, and passed him, going into his room to collect the food dishes and tray from this afternoon's luncheon with his mum. He entered behind her, waiting patiently by the door. When she exited, he closed the door behind her, but didn't lock it; the witch would be back soon.

He stared at Hermione, who was standing in front of the large fireplace, watching the flames. The golden light caught the ribbon in her hair just right, and again, it looked as though she were haloed by a glowing red sun. His eyes roamed her body, taking in every inch, and again he was struck by her natural grace. She really had grown into quite a beautiful young lady – a far cry from the buck-toothed, bushy-haired swot he'd known in their early school years. He could picture what she'd be like in five or so years: fully realized as a woman, magnificent in her confidence. Men would fall to their knees for her.

That was, if she survived the coming war.

Hell, just the thought of her being harmed – of her beauty being marred and her spirit being destroyed - made his chest go tight. If Voldemort had his way, though, that was exactly what would happen to her. He _had_ to find a way to destroy the Mark's influence on him so he could never be used against her.

His determination shored up, he made his way over to her. They did not touch as he stopped at her side and turned his attention to the flames that had so enraptured her, and he put his hands in his trouser pockets for lack of a better place to put them. They stood like that for another minute or so, his feeling that they were both waiting for the other to make a move and break the ice.

"Would you like to-?" Draco began.

"Can you please-?" Hermione asked.

They looked at each other and burst into laughter at their silliness.

"You go first," Draco insisted, playing chivalrous.

Hermione smiled, and looked down at her feet. "I was going to ask, if you would please hug me?"

Draco was pleasantly surprised. He hadn't expected her to be so bold this fast. "I suppose," he agreed in a teasing tone, smirking.

He turned to face her at the same time as she turned to face him, and he bent over a little, wrapping an arm about her waist, while the other cupped the back of her neck. He tried to make the hug chaste, but she buried her nose in the crook of his neck, and all he could feel was her hot breath on his collar. He bent his own face into her neck and inhaled her cinnamon-mint scent, sighing in pleasure, as she did the same to him.

"Thank you," she whispered against his ear.

He chuckled. "No, thank _you_."

She pulled back a bit and looked at him. "For what?"

The fingers holding her neck came around to cup her jaw. He gently rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "For coming up here to be with me."

She blushed a pretty shade of pink, and dropped her gaze to his chest. "Oh, that."

He couldn't help the grin that overtook his face. Just being in a room with Hermione Granger for less than five minutes made the last two grueling hours fade into insignificance. Wanting desperately to kiss her, but knowing that if he started he wouldn't want to quickly stop, he dropped his hands down her arms to her wrists, capturing her fingers with his own. Light touching was safe, right?

"So, where's the She-Weasel?" he asked.

Hermione looked decidedly offended. "She-Weasel? Is that what you Slytherins are calling Ginny now?"

He shrugged, deciding to pull her leg some. "Sure, she's She-Weasel and you're Bookworm."

At first she looked displeased, assessing his sincerity through narrowed eyes. When she realized he was yanking her chain, she chuckled. "You're an incorrigible liar, Draco."

He wiggled his brows at her. "Thought you'd have figured that out by now, Granger. You're supposed to be the most brilliant girl in school."

She laughed again, and Draco thought it a very nice sound. He wanted to hear it again and often.

The moment was shattered with a loud knock. His witch jumped, but Draco had been expecting the interruption. He made his way back across the room and opened the door for Madam Rosmerta, who had a fresh tray of tea and afternoon delights. She also had a small shopping bag, which she handed over. Inside were the things he'd bought this afternoon at Honeyduke's and Gladrag's, he knew.

After she dropped the tray off on the side table, Draco provided Rosmerta with another set of instructions: specifically, to be back with the supper he'd prearranged at six o'clock sharp. That gave them a little less than three hours where they would be alone and undisturbed. He determined to spend that time getting to know Granger a little better. When the proprietor was gone, he locked the door and bespelled it once again to prevent prying eyes and ears from eavesdropping or spying.

When he turned back, Hermione was already at the small table, looking over the goodies. Apparently, the assortment of finger sandwiches, cheese, crackers and fruit was to her liking; she was practically drooling at the sight.

He joined her and reached for a plate. "What would you like?"

She blinked, incredulity stamped across her features. "Are you… _serving me?"_

He shrugged. "I'm just being polite."

"Uh, well… then I guess I'll have a little of everything," she replied, holding one arm over her stomach. "I admit that I didn't have lunch today, and I'm starving."

He piled her plate with food, handed it off, and then turned to do the same to his own. He'd had half a sandwich earlier, but he was still ravenous.

Granger was already sitting on the couch, nibbling her food in her lap, preferring the sofa – probably for its close proximity to the fireplace - over the small table that he and his mother had eaten at earlier. He decided to join her, feeling the casual atmosphere would most likely relax her.

Grabbing two cloth napkins from the side of the tray, he threw one at her as he passed by her to take a seat next to her, and it fluttered across her face as it landed. She reached up and yanked it off, giggling. He arranged to sit so his thighs touched hers, simply because he _needed_ to touch her. They munched on their food in companionable silence, and he waited for her to make the next move.

When the minutes ticked by and she still didn't open her mouth except to eat, her gaze once more lost in the hypnotic flickering of the fire, Draco realized he'd have to take drastic measures. He reached over onto her plate and stole an orange slice, stripping it with his teeth before she could protest.

"You little thief!" she denounced him, laughing.

"You weren't eating it," he defended. "It was just sitting there."

"But I might have _eventually_ eaten it," she argued. "Now I'll never get the chance."

A wicked idea came to Draco then. "Tell you what, Granger. I'll trade you the orange for something even better in the bag." He pointed to the shopping bag that Madam Rosmerta had brought in earlier.

Her face lit up. "What's in it?"

Finally, he had her undivided attention. Now… what to do with it?

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR:**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter: **

**_"Blurry"_ by Puddle of Mudd (Draco's thoughts about his situation and Hermione)**


	25. Ch 25: Starting Over

**Chapter Twenty-five: Starting Over**

_**Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**_

_**November 16, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)**_

Draco took Hermione's small plate and napkin and put them alongside his on the table for the time being. Reaching into the shopping bag from Honeyduke's, he pulled out one of the silver and green beribboned gift boxes of truffles that he'd earlier purchased.

"You have to close your eyes if you want a surprise," he propositioned his companion, throwing her a naughty grin over his shoulder.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Close my eyes for you?"

"What, don't you trust me, Granger?" he playfully accused.

Clearly she didn't, and he honestly couldn't blame her for her feelings, given what had happened between them. To his delight, however, she did as he'd requested and lowered her lashes. He felt very encouraged by her show of faith.

Quickly crossing over to the couch, he sat beside her again. Taking hold of her hands, he placed the box in them with care. "Okay, open."

A bright smile decorated Hermione's pretty features as she cracked open her lids and spied his offering. "You got me another gift!" she sounded genuinely surprised, "…and another ribbon."

They both chuckled at that.

He ran a finger over the green bow. "So it seems. The last one I gave you was much better, though," Draco stated with a small measure of playful arrogance, leaning back against the couch's soft cushions.

Hermione reached up to stroke the red ribbon hanging over her shoulder. Her eyes became glassy and distant for a moment. "Yes, it is. It's my favorite item in the whole world."

He sat up and at attention in his seat, shocked. Was she kidding? "No way, Granger. Nothing's more important to a witch than her wand."

She took a moment to mull his assumption over, but finally shook her head. "I'd pick the ribbon first. Funny, huh?"

His heart pounded out a fierce rhythm under his chest as he assessed her features and gauged her sincerity to be true. Quickly looking away, he was suddenly embarrassed to let her see how her words had deeply affected him. He didn't want her to think he was a milksop, for Merlin's sake. Still, he couldn't help but feel as if they'd made real progress thus far this afternoon.

The silky swish of the green trimming being pulled free of the box drew his attention, and he tucked away his thoughts and feelings for the moment to simply watch her, enamored by her simple joy in receiving something so small as a gift of candy.

When she opened the lid and perceived what lay beneath, she gasped in childlike pleasure. Lifting the box to her nose, she closed her eyes and inhaled. "Oh, I _love_ chocolate truffles!"

A confident smirk slid into place on his lips. Chocolate was always the way to a woman's heart, he knew. Hell, it was the way to _his_ heart, too, but he'd never openly admit that.

"Don't tell my parents that, though," she whispered in mock conspiracy. "They're dentists."

The word she labeled her mum and dad was foreign to Draco's ears. What was a 'den-tist'?

Before he could ask, Hermione took one of the truffles out of the box and bit into it, moaning with bliss. He felt his cheeks burn hot and his cock jump to attention in his trousers just watching her rose-colored lips wrap around the small, round candy. When her velvety, pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, he felt a wave of heat pass through his loins.

"I'm almost jealous."

She stopped and looked at him, a worry line marring her forehead. "What? Why?"

"Because you've moaned more with that truffle in the last thirty seconds than you have with me in the last two months," he stated, chuckling at the irony.

She blushed and held the box out to him. "Well, they're really good. Try one and you'll see."

He knew what the truffles tasted like, because they were his favorite confection, seconded only by that strawberry gum Nott had turned him onto just yesterday. However, this time, he decided to play along. He reached for her hand, the one holding the half-eaten truffle, and brought it up to his mouth. Being as playfully sensuous as he could, he took the candy from between her fingertips with his lips and teeth, and bit into it.

The look she gave him was absolutely priceless – a mixture of incredulity and a sizzling sexual tension. Like a doe cornered by an apex predator, her breathing sped up and her pupils flared.

Her response triggered his; he was suddenly _very_ aroused. His pulse sped up and his belly tightened with desire as his sexual hunger for her swept through him. The darkness laying in wait in the back of his skull started chuckling, and it was a sinister sound, filled with arrogance and the promise of wicked sex. _Mine_, it purred, desperately trying to break through his mental barriers to come forward. _She's mine. Give her to me!_

Caught between his own need and that of the 'other' inside, Draco brought Hermione's hand back to his lips and began sucking on them, all the while holding her gaze. He laved the chocolate from the tips of her fingers with sensual, slow strokes of his tongue. "You're right," he murmured when he'd licked her clean, captivated by the golden glints in her amber-colored eyes and the rosy hue dusking her cheeks. "They're really good."

Hermione began to shiver - that despite the fact she was still wearing her coat and it was blazing warm in the room because of the fire in the hearth. "Your eyes," she whispered, and there was real fear in her tone. "They're darker. Like thunderclouds."

"Are they?"

Moving on pure instinct, he reached out and touched the ribbon in her hair, drawn to feel its softness between his fingers once more for a reason he couldn't fathom. The instant he made contact with it, the wicked personality within his mind fled back into the darkest crevice it could find, snarling in retreat. Draco's mental walls slammed back down into place, and he took a deep breath and let it out, instantly feeling more in control. Relief was heavy in his chest. He feared what the darker half would do were it ever to gain enough strength to overpower him.

"Are you all right?" she asked, concern furrowing her forehead. "You seemed so far away just now."

"You still have your jacket on," he stated, purposefully switching the topic, uneasy with discussing anything having to do with his split personality – especially with the girl he wanted never to scare off again. She'd definitely go running for the hills if she thought him a candidate for the Janus Thickey Ward. He gave one of her cuffs a small tug. "Why don't you take it off?"

That suggestion seemed to jar Hermione. "Oh, yes, you're right! Silly to keep it on indoors, isn't it?" Unbuttoning her jacket, her fingers fumbled with the task. Draco didn't dare help, knowing if he touched her just then, they might not stop at just unfastening her coat.

When she slipped the jacket free, he took it, as well as her scarf, and hung them both on a peg by the door next to his own. Task complete, he turned back… and found his witch was standing again, gazing down into the hearth much as she had when she'd first come into the room. Clearly, she was ill at ease. Her hands rested in the pockets of her dark jeans, her concentration lost in the flames, and even across the room, he could see her erect nipples straining against her cotton, long-sleeved shirt.

His breathing kicked up again, became rough, and he licked his suddenly dry lips, fighting back the incendiary blaze of heat that rolled over his senses. God, everything about this girl made him dizzy with need, and it was getting harder to discipline his sexual responses whenever she was around. Now that he'd had a taste of her – had felt her snug, sweet body take every inch of him in – he wanted more. He _burned_ for it.

But equal to the desire for her body, he wanted her love. He wanted to be good enough to earn such a thing from her, too. She was everything right in the world – everything he was not. Perhaps he could learn to be with her help, though.

In order to do _that_, however, he first had to stop following his cock, and begin developing his conscience. That meant respecting her feelings before considering his own.

He crossed to her side, and put his hands on her shoulders to turn her towards him, noting the consternation marring her features. "Did I frighten you?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

She nodded her head. "A bit."

Draco could see the lingering flush under her skin, and felt its heat under his hands as he caressed over the sweep of her neck and around to cradle the back of her head. He leaned down and softly kissed her temple, shoving his need firmly to the side. "I'm sorry," he murmured, meaning it. He never wanted to scare her again – never wanted to see her look at him with that gut-wrenching mix of fury and fear, as she had the afternoon things had gone too far between them. "We don't have to do anything that you don't want. I'm satisfied just being here with you."

Her small fingers smoothed up his chest to rest upon his pecs, and he swallowed against the burning rush of blood that accompanied such an innocent act. Christ, she drove him mad with the smallest of touches!

"It's not that I don't want to do… _things_… with you. It's just that, well, we don't really know each other," she tried to explain, sounding entirely too composed and rational given their close proximity. "We've rushed things."

He nodded in understanding, leaning back a bit. "Maybe we should start over again, then," he offered.

"How?"

He thought about it, and an idea formed. "Come on," he urged, tugging her towards the couch. They took seats next to each other. Turning towards her, Draco took one of her hands in his and shook it by way of introduction. "Good afternoon, Miss. My name is Draco Malfoy, of the Wiltshire Malfoys, and I'm a right bastard."

The tension between them instantly evaporated as his witch let out a full belly laugh, and returned his greeting. "Well, hello, Sir of Questionable Repute. I'm Hermione Granger, born and raised in a small town in Surrey, and I'm… well, I'm considered a book enthusiast."

He huffed. "More like a book _extremist_ to me. I've never seen anyone devour books like you do, Granger."

She lightly pushed against his shoulder with a grin."Psst, we're not supposed to know each other, remember?"

"Oh? I forgot," he lied with a smirk.

Hermione chuckled and then cleared her throat, pretending seriousness again. "So, Mister Malfoy, tell me a little more about you."

Draco sat back against the cushions of the couch, still holding onto Hermione's hand, liking this game they were playing. He traced his thumb over the back of her skin in soothing circles. "Well, Miss Granger, my parents are both purebloods from a very old family. I'm filthy rich and the ladies all love me. I'm in my sixth-year at Hogwarts - Slytherin to the core - and I'm a real child prodigy, magically-speaking."

"Yes, yes. Everyone is aware that you're the genius six-year old who can do non-verbal spells," she grumbled and rolled her eyes.

He gently poked her in the ribs. "Psst, we're not supposed to know each other, remember?"

The saucy bird actually winked at him. "Oh? I forgot."

Laughter burst forth from his lips without thought or concern, and he shook his head in amazement. A week ago, he never would have bet that they'd be here in this room together, much less getting along, enjoying each other's humor. It was surreal.

"And what about you, Miss Granger?" he asked returning to the game. "I want to hear more about you."

She leaned back against the cushions, too, her head near his. "I'm a sixth-year at Hogwarts as well – Gryffindor and proud. I strive to maintain top grades, and I like to read books not just to learn, but because I love the beauty of the written word. I'm Muggle-born, but my family is rather well-to-do. My parents are both dentists, you see."

Ah, here was his chance to ask her more about this particular Muggle topic that he knew little about. "You said that word before. What exactly is a 'dentist' anyway? Is it some sort of special appointment?"

She looked surprised at his unfamiliarity with the term. "But you should remember from Muggle Studies that…" She trailed off, as she seemed to abruptly remember that he hadn't taken that particular class since the last year it was required – their third. After that, he'd dropped it from his curriculum. "Ah, well, 'dentists' are doctors who take care of teeth," she explained.

Draco couldn't hide the wave of disgust that overcame him. "You mean they stick their hands in people's mouths?"

Hermione seemed to find his reaction most amusing. "Well, it's not as if Muggles have access to magical potions or spells to cure their ailments, do they? They have to do everything the old-fashioned way – by sticking their hands in each other's bodies."

"Nasty, Granger," he gagged. "I could have gone my whole life without knowing that."

She did laugh at him then. "You asked. Besides, in the Muggle world, being a dentist is a highly respected profession that pays well. Like a good Apothecary or Healer in our world."

"_Our_ world?"

Hermione tilted her head, confused by his slip of a question. "Hmm?"

Draco cleared his throat, acutely aware that the subject of her birth and being raised Muggle would be too sensitive to discuss. "It's not important," he hastily replied.

She threw him an exasperated look, and waved her hand to encourage him to speak his mind.

He approached the issue with extreme caution. "It's just that, well, you said '_our_ world' and it set me back a bit," he admitted.

From the look on her face, she was positively baffled by his statement. "Why would it?"

He struggled for the right words to explain his thoughts without offending her."It's just that as a… Mu-_Muggle-born_," he stumbled, almost calling her the derogatory slur by force of habit, "it's something of a surprise to me that you might consider the wizarding world as being where you really belonged - long-term, I mean."

She removed her hands from his in a quick pull. "And why wouldn't I refer to it as such? I _am_ a full-fledged witch, after all."

Instant regret flashed through his belly. "I didn't mean to insult you," he backpedaled, feeling foolish for having opened his mouth. "I just thought you'd consider the Muggle world, where you were raised, as being more yours, if that makes sense."

"You didn't _mean_ to insult me? Really?" she reproached with angry sarcasm, tears springing to her eyes. "Well, then I'd say you've spectacularly failed, as I am _most _assuredly insulted! You almost called me a 'Mudblood' again, Malfoy. I caught the fumble, so don't deny it! And worse, you've once more made it clear that I don't belong alongside other magic users simply because I was born to non-magical parents. Never mind the fact that I'm perfectly capable of hexing your rotten, foul mouth permanently shut!" She hopped up, making to leave, her anger rushing through the room like a swarm of angry bees. "Oh, forget it! Forget any of this! Why I even thought I could trust you again is beyond me!"

Panicked that he'd lose her for good should she walk out the door, Draco grabbed her wrist and made his feet, desperate to stop her. "I didn't mean it," he apologized in a rush. "I'm sorry!"

Hermione opened her mouth, clearly intending to blast him with a stream of vitriolic, uncomplimentary insults, but to his surprise, she instead closed her lips and stared up at him with daggers in her sharp gaze. Meeting that hard, chestnut brown stare, Draco was very aware in that moment that she could, in fact, curse him exactly as she'd promised – and she was probably debating doing just that, too. He knew that he had only seconds to fix this mistake.

"Granger, please try to understand. My parents raised me to believe certain… aspects of human nature. They educated me with a specific vocabulary and under a rigorous understanding of society's divisions. The separation of classes was their _faith_, and they nurtured me to share in their convictions. It's difficult to undo a lifetime's beliefs in only a few months, but I'm honestly trying to look beyond their ways now."

Her anger faltered in the face of his explanation, but still, he could see the wariness in her expression. She was afraid of trusting him again, and could he blame her? He'd hurt her for years with his father's words.

Hesitantly stepping closer to her, he tried to convey his sincerity with gentle stroking over her inner wrist and by speaking from the heart – something he'd rarely done in his life, but was learning to do now because of this girl. "I'm really trying. I want" – he swallowed back his pride – "to be a better man - for _you_. I need you to help me." Reaching up, he trailed a fingertip over her cheek with tenderness. "I'm honestly sorry that I hurt you again."

He knew he'd won her forgiveness when she let out a small huff and softened. "Apology accepted. Just… don't call me that horrid name ever again. You know – the 'M' word. It hurts, Draco. It hurts enough that it could make me walk away from you… permanently. Understand?"

He accepted her censure with a stiff nod. "I understand."

To his surprise, she stepped into him and placed her forehead on his chest. Her thin arms wrapped about his waist and held on. He returned the hug, laying his cheek on the top of her head.

"I know you're trying, Draco. I see it. I sense it. Something changed in you this year, and I know you want things to be different between us. That's why… I can forgive you – for all of it."

He knew she was speaking of more than just their conversation of the last hour, but of every interaction they'd ever had prior to today. Every awful insult he'd ever slung at her, every bit of emotional, physical, and mental torture he'd heaped upon her and her friends, and for having stolen her innocence… she forgave him for it all, just like that. As if it were the simplest thing in the world to turn the other cheek and let the past rest.

Draco was rendered speechless by the power of her compassion. He'd never known another human being – not even his self-sacrificing mother, whom he'd considered the pinnacle of virtue – to be so pure and good of soul. He held her in a fierce embrace, and pressed his nose into her wild curls to find a measure of peace from her soft, feminine scent, unable to find any words to thank her for her merciful absolution.

They stood like that for long minutes, learning from the silence how to be accepting of each other.

At some unspoken signal, Hermione broke the mood by leaning back in his arms and smiling up at him. A frisky playfulness danced in her bright eyes. "Well, it's not as if you're the only one who owes an apology, I suppose." Now her cheeks were suffused with heat, and he knew it wasn't caused by the warmth of the room. "I _did_ hit you in third-year," she admitted with a repentant expression. "And then there was the hex in fourth-year-"

He chuckled and held a hand up to halt her list of their numerous soured run-ins. "Yes, I'm still traumatized by the violence you perpetrated on my person those times, Granger. I'm not sure I'll ever fully recover being attacked by your proficient wand-aim, you violent harpy."

She laughed, smacked him on the arm for his 'harpy' comment, and just like that, the argument was over. With a spirited tug, Hermione grabbed him and pulled him back down onto the sofa with her, returning to their previous positions. She leaned back against the cushions again, still holding onto his hand, and continued with the charade they'd been playing earlier. "So, what do you like to do for fun, Mister Malfoy?" she asked.

"Kiss girls," he sassed with a huge grin, relieved that the confrontation had been resolved and that she was willing to pick up where they'd left off.

Hermione gave him a coy smile. "Ah. I see. _Girls_, plural. So, any witch will do, then?"

He shook his head. "No, just one, actually. She's perfect for me in every way." He gave a faux suffering sigh, playing the part of the frustrated lover. "But convincing her that I'm the King of the Good Snog is turning out to be harder than I'd anticipated."

She indelicately snorted, and the sound made him grin. "I suppose you think her a very lucky lady, indeed – kissed by the 'incomparable' Draco Malfoy," she teased, rolling her eyes.

His gaze was unwittingly drawn to her impish, pink mouth, noting a tiny smudge of chocolate powder in the corner crease. "Of course! Not just anyone will do to touch _these_ lips, Miss Granger. Only the best is allowed to sample." With a flirtatious smirk, he angled towards her, desperate to lick the sweet from her mouth. "Perhaps I should demonstrate my skill for you, so you can know just how lucky the girl in question is and doubt me no more. What do you say?"

Before she could curse his arse for being so cheeky, he swooped down and took her lips in a tantalizing, open-mouthed kiss.

He'd meant the caressing of their lips to be a simple contact - quick and fun, and just part of the game they'd been playing - but when Hermione returned the endearment with an eager passion, throwing her arms around his neck, Draco quickly changed his mind. A rapid tattoo of lust slammed into him, and he groaned, low and with unrestrained longing. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into the heated depths of her mouth, caressing and coaxing her responses, tasting the chocolate she'd eaten earlier. He took it slow, exploring every crevice, lapping across her lips and savoring her lush mouth.

The tiny whimper she made in the back of her throat and the way her trembling hands gripped him got him harder than steel in seconds. It also, unfortunately, began to call to the darkness within him. He felt it insidiously slinking forward, looking for a way past his guard.

_I want her! She's mine! _

He slammed the wickedness back where it belonged within the cage of his mind, forcibly restraining the compulsions it projected to throw Hermione down and rip into her. He would _not _let this 'other' hurt her – or dictate the tone of their sexual interactions, as it had last week. He would _not_ let it ruin this second chance she'd given them.

Since they were starting over, and he needed to regain her trust, he decided in the spur of the moment that he would give up the lead this time and allow his witch the opportunity to take control of this session. "Kiss me how you want," he encouraged her between pulls of their lips. "Show me what _you_ want, Hermione."

Her lashes fluttered as they rose to half-mast, and she met his gaze. There was trepidation in her expression, but more importantly, there was heat. He needed only to convince her to shunt the former aside, and to allow the latter its freedom.

"I'm yours," he promised, buzzing her mouth with his own. "Take me how you want me. You set the pace."

It was the absolute right thing to say.

Granger flushed with eagerness and pressed forward, parting his lips with her soft tongue and plunging inside. Draco let her discover this new power that she had over him, following her lead and being careful not to push his own agenda. He kept his hands on either side of her head, palms down on the cushion - just to be sure they didn't wander.

A ragged groan was torn from his throat when her sweet tongue tempted his to come into her mouth once more. He did as she bade, and felt his spine bow when she caught his tongue in a light hold and began suckling upon it. Mimicking the sex act, he slipped it in and out between the seam of her mouth, wishing it were his cock sliding between those reddened lips instead. The idea of her sucking him off had his steely length twitching and leaking pearls of pre-come, wetting the fabric of his trousers.

Damn, but it was time to stop, before he gave into his desire to push for more.

With a final nip at her bottom lip, he pulled back and placed his nose against her cheek, lovingly rubbing against her, trying to control his pounding heart. "That was nice."

To his surprise, Hermione kept trying to nudge his mouth back to hers, clearly wanting more. "You said that last night, too," she reminded him, lightly scraping her fingernails across the nape of his neck, even as she scooted closer. He could feel her taut nipples pressing against his chest.

What the bloody hell was she doing?

Her mouth hovered against his ear, breathing hot, moist breath upon his skin. "You said you were mine. You said I could take you as I wanted. Well, I want more, Malfoy. Give me more."

A flush of sweat broke out over his brow, and his sac tightened up with anticipation. Shite, he wanted to give her exactly what she was begging for, but he worried that if they went even a bit further that he wouldn't have the fortitude to stop them from taking things much too far. He didn't want to be blamed in the aftermath, or to have her run out on him again, throwing curses his way.

Her mouth continued pressing kisses along his jaw and down over the sensitive flesh above his pulse, causing his belly to quiver. When her outer thigh nudged his raging erection, tiny electric shocks travelled down Draco's spine. He shuddered with a violent desire and his breath hitched in his chest. "Hermione, we should stop," he cautioned, his hands clenching into fists as he attempted to curb them from touching her. "My restraint isn't the best right now."

She ignored the advice and bit down, sinking her tiny, white teeth into his flesh. He groaned at the pleasurable sensation. Turning his head into her, he tried to cut off further access to his neck. "Granger, I'm serious," he tried again, but couldn't finish as she simply adjusted her angle and licked the corner of his mouth instead. He jerked in response.

Son of a… she was _trying_ to seduce him!

"If you don't quit doing that," he growled, "you're going to get more than you bargained for, witch. Is that what you want?"

"Hmmm," she unconcernedly replied and moved back to suckling upon his neck. She used enough pressure that he knew she was leaving a love bite upon him.

She was marking him as hers.

The idea made him literally quake with need.

Draco's hands moved of their own accord to the back of her head, gripping the red ribbon that she'd tied in her hair. Scarlet fire burst through his senses, heightening his arousal and strengthening the mental walls he'd erected to keep the dark thing inside of him at bay. He leaned his mouth to Hermione's pulse, expelling hot breaths onto the exposed skin. His dick was so hard in his pants that it was throbbing now, and he knew that he was a bare inch from losing all control.

"Last chance, Granger: I'm going to fuck you into the sofa, right here and now, if we don't stop," he warned.

Hermione boldly crawled onto his lap, straddling his thighs with her own, pressing their cores together. She locked her hands behind his neck, thrusting her fingers into his hair, and kissed him with a desperate quality. He knew then that he was lost.

_She is yours,_ the foreign, mystical woman with the odd accent spoke to him once again within the confines of his head. _And you are hers. You belong to each other. It is destiny._

Destiny. The preordained future. He'd always thought Trelawney to be barking mad whenever the woman went off about the concept, as he'd never believed in it. However, something about loving Hermione Granger felt unquestionably foreordained. Being with her in this manner – kissing her, loving her - felt right in a way that nothing else ever had.

She wanted this. He did, too. And they were apparently meant for each other…

Willingly, he let go and obeyed his supposed fate.

Like their first time, the switch in his body that held his sexual restraint snapped off, and his desire flared between them. Throwing an arm around Hermione's waist, and using the other to cradle the back of her head, he laid her back against the cushions of the couch, ravaging her mouth anew. Her lips opened for him as she moaned hungrily. Lust speared through him in a scalding flash. He needed her naked – now. He broke the kiss for only a moment to pull his jumper and shirt up over his head. Both were flung to the floor with a careless toss.

Before he could check the motion, his partner's cool hands were smoothing up his bare chest in a slow glide. "I love the way you look," she murmured, seemingly mesmerized. Her eyes glittered with hunger as she appraised his upper body. "You're perfectly built. Sleek, strong…" Her fingers traced the ridges of his abs, his pecs, and up over the delicate bones of his collar. Her sensual learning of his torso had him shivering, especially when her nails dug into his shoulders. "Your skin is so pale, like the moon." Her gaze met his. "Why hadn't I noticed before?"

The look in her eyes left no doubt - her desire for him was on equal footing this time. They were going to have sex, and neither of them would regret it later.

"You know why," he said in a soft whisper. There was no need to rehash what they both remembered about their negative history. He didn't want the mood killed either, so acting quickly, he yanked her shirt up and over her shoulders, throwing it aside. The centre clasp of her bra was nimbly undone, and he slid the straps and cups aside, baring her to his view. "You have the most beautiful golden skin," he murmured, touching her in the same manner as she'd done him. "And your breasts… Christ, Granger, these are the nicest tits I've ever seen. I love how sensitive your nipples are." He rolled them between his fingers and thumbs, and as expected, she gasped and arched into him.

Too tempted by the feast laid out before him, he dropped his head and took one of the swollen, little points between his lips and kissed it.

"Draco," her cry was desperate as he opened his mouth and sucked the nip deeper, laving his tongue over it. Her nails dug deeper into his skin.

His hands drifted to the clasp on her jeans and he unbuttoned it. The zip was loud as it came down. "Want you naked," he murmured, pulling the waist of her Muggle pants down over her hips, even as he switched his mouth's attentions to her other, neglected breast. Hermione helped him, lifting her bottom off the couch so he could yank the jeans down her legs. He had to pull his mouth from hers to be able to reach as he tugged the cuffs down and slipped the denims free.

"Sit up for me and lose the bra," he instructed, backing off so she could do so.

With a quick adjustment, her lingerie was off and she flung it across the opposite arm of the couch. He noted that her berry-ripe nipples were prominent and begging for his attention. He would give it to them soon, but first… He knelt between her legs, running his hands up and down her calves and thighs, pressing kisses to the dimples of her knees. Hooking his fingers into her knickers, he silently required her to lift her backside one more time with a tender pat to her bum, and when she complied, he slid her panties down and off. With a nudge, her thighs opened for him and he was suddenly staring once more into the centre of her femininity.

"God, you're beautiful," he hummed. He reached up and stroked two fingers between her slick folds. She practically came off the couch at the contact. "So wet for me." He flicked her tiny clit and she gasped. "I want to lick this pretty pussy, Granger. Open wider for me."

Her inner thigh muscles began trembling, but she did as he asked, leaning back further into the sofa. Using his thumbs, he parted the soft lips. Shite, she was so small, the opening so slight. How had they… It almost didn't seem possible. Yet, he knew he'd been in there, held tight by her snug flesh. No one else could ever boast that. He'd been her first – her only.

That was how things would remain, if he had his way.

He dropped his lips to her little nub and suckled upon it, even as he entered her with first one finger, then two, easing the way. Her hands immediately clasped into his hair and she cried out his name in ecstasy. She bent her knees and rested her heels on the edge of the couch, throwing her head back into the soft cushion.

"Draco… oh, God!"

Lapping his tongue through the juices of her sweet, delicious cunt, his fingers burrowed as deep as they could go inside her soft flesh, tickling the inside by curling and releasing, curling and releasing. He established a rhythm then of gentle, teasing in and out motion, even as his free hand brushed over her abdomen, rubbing to soothe her lingering nervousness. He could feel her tension, knew she wanted this as much as he, but it was only her second time. He had to make it good for her to make up for their first encounter…

With his blood thundering through his veins, he ate her out with sensual licks and kisses, and fucked her with his fingers in a manner meant to bring her close to the edge as quickly as possible. Her shaking body and desperate cries soon mounted, until she was begging him to bring her. He knew then that she was ready for him.

Pulling back, he lifted his mouth to hers and let her taste her salty-sweet essence upon his lips, even as he stripped off the remainder of his clothes in a rush. When he was as naked as she, he stood up and wrapped his arms about her waist, pulling her up. "Hold onto me," he directed her, and her arms came about his neck, embracing him as he'd asked. Moving quickly, he shoved the tops of his thighs under hers, raising her up onto the back of couch. "Okay?"

It was the last out for both of them, and they equally knew it. She nodded, moving in for a kiss of reassurance. He gave it to her, even as he held his cock up with one hand, lined it correctly, and then entered her in one swift thrust at the same time as pulling her down onto him.

They both shouted with pleasure at the sensation of him parting her tight quim until he was buried to the hilt.

The feeling of her soft, wet body clasping about his length once again was exquisite. Her channel was pure silk around him, and gripped him tight. The broad head of him was tucked in against her womb in a perfect fit. With shallow surges, he worked his length back and forth a few times to stretch her out. Hermione gasped and shuddered with each withdrawal. "Like that?" he asked, lips pressed to her throat, nibbling upon it.

"Yes," she replied, her tone breathy, her mouth pressed to the bend of his neck. "Oh, Draco… this is… this is how it should have been."

"I know, baby," he replied, the endearment falling from his lips as effortlessly as his own name. "I'll make it so good this time, promise."

She nodded, leaning back to press her lips to his. "I know."

He kissed her long and hard, holding onto her and directing her to move over him. Their pelvises rocked against each other, and she bucked against him as she came down upon his shaft. Her juices were flowing now, coating him, making the way slick and easy. Her legs wrapped about his waist, and she tightened up her lower muscles, urging him to go deeper and harder. Adjusting the angle of his penetration, the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh grew loud as he held with an almost bruising force to her hips and pounded into her, pushing her deep into the cushions on the back of the couch.

Sinking with each thrust to the base, marrying them together with full, complete strokes, he gave everything he had to Hermione. His heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding within his chest, and sweat gathered in the crevices of his body, and over his lip and brow. The pain of holding back his orgasm was excruciating and sharp, but he refused to let go until she did. He wouldn't cheat her this time.

"Close?" he asked, fighting his body's release with gritted teeth.

"Almost," she gasped into his neck. "I can't… I'm so close, but…"

His hips bunched and rolled as he slammed into her, and he dropped one hand to rub her clit in circles with his thumb.

"_Yes_," she encouraged him, her voice coming out as a hiss of pleasure. She dug her nails in deeper. "Oooh, I'm… a little more!"

The heat centered in his balls was beginning to pulse up and into his cock. He was seconds from spilling into her. He needed to bring her first. He needed to hear the words from her mouth that he'd been desperate to hear for so long. "Tell me you wanted this – that you won't regret it," he hissed in agony. "Tell me you won't run from me this time. Just… just tell me that you love me like I love you. Christ, please tell me, Granger!"

Hermione began sobbing into his neck, her body shaking as she approached the edge of madness. "Yes, I wanted this - wanted _you_, Draco, and I won't… I won't run," she confessed in between great, gasping breaths.

He pinched her throbbing, swollen clit and in a tightening rush, her orgasm hit its high. Red fire burst around them both. Her insides clenched, suckled upon him, dragging him into her so deep that he was lodged right against the entrance to her womb again. "I love you, Draco!" she screamed, throwing her head back in bliss, ranking her nails down his arms. "Oh, God, I love you!"

Her release brought him, and in an explosion of scalding feeling, he fell over the edge with her, shouting his pleasure to the ceiling. His seed poured out of him in wave after wave of unending ecstasy as his climax shook him, body and soul. Sweat dripped from his upper lip and down his temple as his body shuddered from the intensity of his ejaculation.

When the pulses tapered off and finally ended, and every drop was wrung out of him and into her, Draco felt utterly drained, boneless, and drifted on a sea of pure contentment. He rode the glow with a happy, silly smile plastered to his face. Fuck, but he'd never come so hard in all his life and he felt _good_ just then.

The two of them stayed like that even after their hearts had stopped racing and their bodies had come back under their control, both so shaken by the experience they'd just shared that words seemed clumsy and inadequate to describe it.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Draco moved his cheek up to hers, lazily stroking across her skin like a great, sated cat. "You can't take it back, Granger," he murmured. "Not ever."

He opened his lids to find Hermione staring at him. Tears swam in her eyes, but she was smiling in happiness. Her fingers moved to stroke over his brow and down, following the curve of his jaw, finishing by feathering over his lips. "I knew it would be like this with you," she whispered, repeating back to him the words he'd spoken to her in September.

Draco's heart knocked around under his ribs at the poignancy of her words, and his chest and throat went tight with emotion. He crushed her to him once more, feeling tears sting his vision.

Fortune. Doom. Karma. Whatever Trelawney wanted to call it, whatever awaited him tomorrow, if it was indeed his lot to die for betraying Lord Voldemort and for loving Hermione Granger, Draco now knew that he could do that. He'd do it willingly. So long as the girl in his arms loved him, he could do anything.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter: **

_**"With You I'm Born Again" (Cover song)**_** by Kenny Lattimore & Chante Moore (Draco and Hermione's thoughts about each other)**


	26. Ch 26: Making Love

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**A lot of fleshed-out material in this chapter compared to version 1.0 to round out the characters and set the stage for what's next. Hope you enjoy! **

**Please review!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-six: Making Love**

_**Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**_

_**&**_ _**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**November 16-17, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione spooned with Draco on the couch in the afterglow, still naked after having made love, talking in whispers. It was nice to be wrapped up in his arms, staring at the fire, sharing secrets, and feeling his hard body against her back.

"So, you have _three_ middle names: Lucius Cygnus Abraxas?" she asked, a tad astonished. "Is that tradition in your family?"

"Not exactly," her lover replied, running his fingers very lightly over the skin of her bare arm, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck. "Every Malfoy heir is given his father and his paternal grandfather's names for his middle. I'm the first to have three names, as far as I know. 'Cygnus' was my mother's father. I guess she decided she wanted the Black family traditions carried forward, too… or something like that." His lips touched down against the curve of her throat. "Where does your middle name, 'Jean,' come from? Is it your mother's name?"

She shook her head. "My father's grandmother. My mum gave me my first name – her grandmother's, so dad picked my middle."

"Are they common Muggle names then?" he asked, and she knew he wasn't being offensive, just sincerely curious.

"Not really. 'Hermione' was the name of Helen of Troy's only daughter in Greek mythology. I was told I was named for her. See, mum was a student of ancient religions, and her family is originally from Greece. They moved to England after the Great War in 1914 and she was born here, but I suppose she wanted to pass on some of her heritage to her only child," she explained, smoothing circles over the hip he'd throw over her legs. "As for 'Jean'… it's not very common today – very old fashioned, in fact."

"What are they like – your parents?"

She described them as she knew them: of good stock, rather conservative in their beliefs, supportive of scholarly pursuit, intelligent, and fair-minded. Further, she expressed her admiration for her mother's natural beauty and for her father's occasional, witty humor. "They're both very British," she joked with a chuckle, "but they love and respect each other very much. I see it in the way they touch and kiss. And when they fight, they never raise their voices, but always talk it out."

Draco was quiet for a bit. "Sounds… idyllic," he finally murmured, and she detected a slight note of bitterness to his tone.

Hesitantly, she asked about his parents. He was reticent to discuss his father at all, and it was clear there was a serious strain between the Malfoy men. Instead, he spent the majority of his praise on his mother.

To her surprise, Hermione learned that many of her preconceived notions about Lady Malfoy – based upon their one-time run-in at Diagon Alley this past August, as well as her assumptions based upon what she knew of the woman's husband and son – were false. It seemed Narcissa Black Malfoy was a woman who wore many masks, and was adept at switching them out to best suit the current situation. Underneath it all, however, Draco painted her as a strong, loving woman who would go to any length necessary to protect her family – even pretending to serve the Dark Lord in public and private, and tolerate an abusive husband and a mad sister in her home.

"I-I assumed-" she stammered, trying to find the right words to convey her amazement. "That is to say I believed her public performance in Madam Malkin's that one day to reflect her true nature."

There was no need to elaborate; they both knew which day she was talking about this past August.

Her lover's arms tightened a bit around her in a hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her throat. "I said some awful things. Mother did, too. I'd take it all back if I could."

"I know." She nodded in acceptance of his apology and snuggled back into him, reminding her heart again that Draco was different now. He'd admitted his guilt for his past transgressions and had asked for her forgiveness. Although it was difficult to give it considering how much he'd hurt her and her friends over the years, she knew that she needed to if she wanted this new relationship to succeed between them. "I know you would, and that you mean it," she reiterated.

He turned her cheek so that she was looking over her shoulder at him, and captured her lips in a sweet kiss that melted her insides. She adjusted the angle of her body so that she could move into his mouth's caress, aware of their heated skin shifting against each other as she twisted around. He was already erect against her outer thigh, and her breasts were heavy with anticipation. Their tongues stroked in lazy, slow draws, and his kisses were both drugging and dizzying at the same time.

Like before, he had only to do this much to her, and Hermione's self-control was destroyed. "More," she whispered her plea, hungry for his touch, arching into his palm as it slid over her abdomen, smoothing upwards. Cupping one of her breasts, he gave into her demands, lightly pinching and massaging the nipple. She whimpered and dug her nails into the cushions under her as heated pleasure raced through her veins. "God, Draco! I _need _you again," she gasped, as magical red fire roared to life behind her closed lids and ignited her blood.

With light pressure, he flipped her totally onto her back. "Want you, too," he moaned as he leaned over, took a tender bud between his lips, and began suckling. His tongue stroked with bold confidence over and around her areola, and his teeth nipped ever-so-gently over her tight, hard points until he had her insides quaking and her throat emitting little keening mewls of delight. "I like those little sounds you make," he murmured with hot breath against her ear as he raised his head from his teasing attentions.

Drawing a slow line down her stomach, he toyed with the damp curls between her legs before dipping into her slick, wet folds. Hermione shuddered and exhaled shaky breaths as he stroked her clit in slow, torturous circles. When he plunged two fingers into her, she let out an unrestrained moan that was loud in the hushed room.

"You should see how pretty you look right now." His cloud grey eyes reflected the same heat and wonder as his tone carried. "You're so sweet, Granger… in every way."

"I want to touch you," she told him, and reached her hand up to tentatively wrap her fingers around his steely length, learning for the first time what a man felt like. The flesh outside was soft to the touch, but with a core of iron. It was taut with need. He was long and thick, heavy in her palm, and as she glanced down to take him all in, she noted that there was a bead of clear moisture on the dark pink, flared tip. She skimmed across it, feeling the stickiness flow over her hand and across him as she pumped slowly up and down, unsure of her grip, but knowing from the way his breath hitched that she was doing it right.

Now, it was Draco's turn to groan. The sound was a rumbling need from deep in his throat that had her body tightening in response. "You make me desperate for you," he whispered the truth against her lips, as he leaned down to capture them once more.

They both knew where this was headed, so when he shifted to lay atop her and pressed her deep into the cushions, supporting his weight on his arms and knees, Hermione widened her legs and cradled him between without being asked. His hips shifted, and there was that insistent pressure at the opening to her body as his crown sought entrance. Then, with a slight push, he was sliding into her once more.

Being filled by him an inch at a time, in slow increments, was an amazing feeling – so pleasurable, so relieving, as if she were regaining a lost part of herself. It was beautiful. "Ooh!" she breathlessly gasped as he parted the tight channel of her body until he'd married their hips together at last, and was fully buried within her.

"Christ, _so tight_," he groaned, letting out a trembling exhale. "Hold onto me," he bade, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent and stole her breath again with sweet, loving pulls of lips.

Setting a slow pace, he took his time withdrawing and returning in gentle, sliding surges of velvet heat, his rhythm as unhurried as his kisses had been earlier. "All right?" he asked, his mouth trailing over her cheek to her throat, pressing light pecks upon the skin.

"Yes," she lightly panted, feeling the hungry, throbbing sensation in her womb build with each forging stroke. "Oh, yes, don't stop!"

He pulled his head back and intently watched her as with those beautiful grey eyes of his, his teeth bared as he fought to maintain a tight control. "Won't," he promised, panting. "Wrap your legs around my waist."

She did as he wanted, locking her ankles around the small of his back. The pressure inside increased as all of her muscles tightened around him. The adjustment had him clipping her tiny, swollen nub of flesh with every jerk and roll of his hips. The sensation shattered her, and she cried out for her lover, as the feeling of tumbling free and soaring into the sky unexpectedly overpowered her. Her womb pulsed, and little red sunbeams flashed behind her eyelids. Her body let out one long, pleasurable shudder that continued for what seemed an eternity.

When she returned from her state of rapturous bliss, it was to feel Draco's arms gather her up and pull her tight into him. Every muscle in his body was taut, and the cadence of his hips hastened. "Tell me you love me," he begged, plunging hard into her wet depths, preparing to find his release. "Tell me!"

She spoke the words with fervent honesty and clung to him with sincere devotion as they pressed cheek-to-cheek. "I love you, Draco. I do! _I love you!_"

He groaned into her mouth as he turned his head and pressed in for an impassioned kiss. With a few more fiery thrusts, he unraveled with a euphoric cry, spilling his seed deep inside the tight, moist heart of her.

He remained inside of her for a long while after, growing soft, his cheek pressed to her breasts. He was heavy, but Hermione didn't mind. She ran her fingernails through his hair, and he sighed with contentment along with her.

Later, around sunset, Madam Rosmerta arrived, and laid a tray of food outside their door. With cracking joints, Draco got up and retrieved it, and they decided to sit at the table together, next to each other, to eat. For pudding, he hand fed her truffles from the gift box he'd given her earlier, and this time, she returned the favor, discovering that he secretly loved chocolate as much as she did. They were covered in the sticky, sweet confection, laughing and smiling at each other's silly antics.

By then, Hermione had become comfortable with their nudity; she especially liked that they could both reach across the short distance between them at any time and stroke any part of the other's body without being hindered by clothes. Draco, of course, took full advantage of that opportunity as often as possible, his warm fingers touching her cheek, her shoulder, the bend of her elbow, even behind her knee. As he caressed her, she had the distinct feeling that he was memorizing her at the same time as discovering her, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little sadness creep into her heart.

She engaged him in conversation again, not wanting to taint their wonderful evening together with gloomy thoughts. "What one thing do you want to know about me?" she asked.

Her lover stared at her in silence for a moment in contemplation, his wintery gaze unfathomable. "Tell me a favorite memory from childhood," he finally requested.

She considered it, deciding on the holiday trip she'd taken with her parents to Saltburn-by-the-Sea in North Yorkshire when she was seven years old. She recounted in great detail the weekend they'd spent at the pier: taking the forest walk to the Valley Gardens, touring the Smuggler's Museum, and walking along the beach with their shoes off. She told him of the Funicular Railway, which had particularly terrified her with its sharp slope; she swore it would tip over and drop them to their deaths on the way down. She shook her head at the memory of her insistence that they all ride the railway together, despite her terror, and how after they'd reached the bottom she'd crazily insisted they go on it again. Thankfully, she related, her parents had deflected her with a candied apple instead.

Draco laughed at her story, and she decided that she rather liked the sound, and his smile.

"Your turn," she encouraged, but her lover grew suddenly somber, as if he couldn't find a happy memory to convey. Instead, like her parents had long ago, he deterred her by shoving a sweet - another truffle - into her mouth, then kissing her. The chocolate melted between them, coating their lips and they took turns licking it off each other.

Right in the middle of it, to her mortification, she yawned. "Merlin, I'm sorry!" she pulled back, feeling the flush of embarrassment run hot over her cheeks. "That was completely unintended, I swear!"

"Wore you out, did I?" Draco snarked, an arrogant smirk curling up his left cheek.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione laughed. "I hate to admit it, but yes, you did. I'm thoroughly exhausted." She placed a hand over her abdomen and rubbed it once. "And quite full, too. It's making me sleepy."

Taking her hand and pulling her to her feet, Draco led her to the King-sized bed. "Come on, then, let's rest. We've got all night to play, if we want."

They huddled under the covers together, facing each other, settling into a comfortable position for them both. His fingers twined in her hair, while the other hand smoothed over the delicate bones of her collar and down, over a naked breast. She tilted her head up to chastise his insistent naughtiness, but closed her mouth when she noted that rather than rousing trouble, he was instead quickly falling to sleep. Eyes closed, a small smile upon his face, he looked almost angelic in repose. The touch, obviously, had little to do with inflaming another round of desire, and more to do with simply taking comfort and pleasure from her body pressed against his.

Relaxing, she snuggled closer, placing her hand above his heart. His smile widened, and he lifted his left arm up to cover hers. The movement exposed his inner forearm, and her eyes were unwittingly drawn to the one thing she'd been willfully avoiding looking at all day long: the Dark Mark. The black, sinister skull imprinted on his pale flesh grinned at her as it spat out a writhing serpent from between its teeth. Hermione couldn't help but stiffen up and shudder in revulsion at the sight.

Her reaction had a domino effect on her partner's mood. Draco went rigid against her, and he opened his eyes to follow her gaze. Realization dawned across his features as he noted what had captured her attention, and shame etched its pain into the angles and curves of his face. He moved his arm, laying it back down by his side, turning his head away at the same time.

In just one second, the magic of this afternoon had shifted from something wonderful into something ugly, and a gaping abyss opened between them, pulling them apart. Doubts, once more, crept into her mind.

He was the enemy.

He was the boy she loved.

The two ideas couldn't reconcile.

Clearly struggling with the conflict as well, Draco loosened his hold, and began scooting out and away from her, making to leave the bed. Hermione knew that if she let him leave now, that it would be over between them.

Should she let him go? Could she?

"…_if anyone can turn Malfoy from his family's legacy, it's you."_

"…_if it's real between you two, you can overcome __anything__, even Voldemort's hate!"_

_"No misunderstandings this time, Granger. If you want me, then just say it."_

The ribbon in her hair, still tangled up with her messy curls, glowed a brilliant aura in her peripheral vision. The light of its fire warmed her right up, reminding her not to give into the darkness of her doubts and fears - reminding her to be brave in the face of impossible odds. She was Gryffindor, after all, and flinching from a difficult challenge wasn't her way.

Gathering her courage, she lunged for Draco, throwing her arms about his waist, pressing her cheek to his back. "I want you!" she dared, throwing herself off the proverbial cliff. "You said if I wanted you, then to just say it. Well, I do! I want this!"

She felt him hesitate. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. "Tell me the truth: did you mean it when you said you loved me, Granger?"

There was no hesitation on her part. "Yes."

"Can you trust me?"

"I can try." It was as honest an answer as she could give. "I _am_ trying, Draco. I know there's a lot between us – our past, this war, your service to… _him_ – but I think we can win against it, if we try. Do you… do you want us that much, too?"

He let out a deep, shuddering breath, turned, and drew her into his arms once more, burying his nose in her sex-messy hair. "Yes. That's why… I won't let him hurt you," he vowed, his voice growing stronger, more assured with every word.

Who was 'him'? Surely, he must have meant Lord Voldemort, right?

They kissed for a bit to make up the fight, and soon after were back in the bed, the covers pulled up around their snuggling, warm bodies. Hermione drifted off to sleep to the sound of Draco's steady heartbeat, and his fingers softly petting the ribbon in her hair.

**X~~~~~X**

Sometime just before dawn, Hermione was awakened by a series of temperature differences that had her simultaneously shivering with cold and working up a sweat.

The covers had been stripped from her body, and she was lying on her back, naked in the middle of the mattress. The air in the room was chilly in comparison to being under blankets. Draco was between her legs, brushing his velvet tongue through the folds of her swollen, wet core, causing her whole body to burn with need.

When he bit with stinging pressure against her clit and roughly thrust two fingers up and into her, she gasped in shock from the pleasure-pain that followed. The sensations shot up her womb, jolting her hips off the bed, and causing her head to kick back into the pillow. "Ah, Draco!" she cried out in protest, and looked down the length of her body at him with surprise. "Gentle. Not so rough."

The magically lit, crackling hearth behind him cast him into shadow, making his eyes seem darker than usual in this light – a charcoal color - and the planes and angles of his cheeks were sharper. The intensity of his stare was both predatory and hungry. "Sorry," he replied, licking straight up through the seam of her lower lips in apology. "Better?"

Something about the way he was speaking to her… it seemed 'off' in a way she couldn't explain. "Just… please remember that I'm new to this." She felt a blush rouge her cheeks. "You're my first and only."

The smirk he gave her at that reminder was wicked and arrogant – more belonging to the boy he'd been prior to this year, rather than the man he was developing into. "Lay back, baby," he instructed her, placing kisses over the drenched curls surrounding her mons, "and just enjoy what I do to you."

Trusting him, as she'd earlier professed to want to try to do, she lay back into the bed and let him have his way with her. He bent his head to the task of orally pleasuring her, kissing and laving over her like he was enjoying a feast. His hands gripped her inner thighs with possessiveness, spreading them wide, opening her fully up. Turning her head in embarrassment, she tried to focus on the pleasurable sensations rather than on how vulnerable she felt just then. It was difficult however, and unconsciously, her hand reached for the ribbon in her hair to give her courage…

…only to find it gone. A quick glance down towards the foot of the bed found it lying there. Had Draco removed it, or had her natural squirming around in her sleep dislodged it? How odd that it would end up that far away from her.

Her attention was diverted when Draco suddenly rose up and mounted her. His cheeks and chin were glistening with her juices as he stared down at her with reckless desire. "I want you on top this time, riding me."

Before she could protest that she'd never actually been in such a position before, and would need guidance, he rolled them so that he was on his back and he sat her atop his hips. "Take me in your hand," he required of her, and when she did, he indicated with taps on her knees that she was to rise and position him at her entrance. With inexperienced, trembling fingers, she did as he wished.

"Sit on me." His eyes glittered with anticipation.

Slowly, she lowered her body, feeling him pressing up into her, stretching her open once again. The sensation was much more intimate in this position and made her feel powerful. For the first time, she was controlling their love making – the speed, the force. She stared down at him with the dawning understanding that she was, in a way, dictating his pleasure this time. He'd already given her his heart, and now she would own his body as well.

"You're mine," she whispered, remembering how he'd claimed her as such during their first time together, and fully comprehending what that meant only in this moment.

His smile was pure sin. "And you're mine, Princess."

Impaled upon his full length at last, they rested for only a moment, giving them both time to adjust and enjoy the feeling of this new position, and then he taught her how to move on him, using his hands as a guide. It took some fine-tuning to find the right angle and what type of penetration worked best for both of them – her bouncing up and down versus sliding her hips forwards and back - but when they found their rhythm, she regained her confidence. The exquisite feeling of him frantically surging up into her at the same time as she slammed down and forward onto him had her gasping for breath in no time. Her orgasm built fast as once more, he stimulated all the right spots.

As she reached the cusp, he stilled her quite unexpectedly and suddenly by gripping her hips and holding her down on top of him. "Say again that you love me," he implored her, panting with exertion and shaking with need. The sheen of sweet upon his face was highlighted by the orange-gold flames from the hearth, and his eyes were no longer haunted by darkness, but now reflected a frantic need for her acceptance.

"I love you," she promised, touching his cheek with a reverent stroke. "I'll still love you tomorrow, and forever, if you want."

As if her words had quelled whatever insecurities and doubts had been chasing him, he gave her a sweet smile, reached up, and pulled her mouth down to his. His blazing, passionate kiss served as an affirmation of her choice. Yes, she wanted him, no matter the reason behind their coming together - whether it was the result of a strange enchantment, or just circumstance – and no matter the consequence. This was her decision: she wanted Draco Malfoy, to love, and to be loved by him for as long as possible.

Sliding his hands down her body, touching every inch along the journey, he eventually grabbed onto her hips and began moving them again. The craving to finish together swept them both away in moments, as he pumped up into her to a wild rhythm. Very fast, her orgasm bloomed and expanded within her centre, burning hot. The pressure tightened, her insides throbbed. Stroking once across her clit, the pleasure reached its zenith, and her climax slammed into her with violent, storm-like intensity. She held onto his shoulders for dear life as she flung her head back and arched her breasts to the ceiling with a cry of his name.

Within the core of her, shudder after shudder raced, tightening and releasing around his thick length. With a gasp, Draco grabbed her waist, pressed her as far down on him as she could get, and arched his back and neck off the bed. A warm flare of pleasure shot into her, and another, and another as he released into her depths. "I love you, Hermione!" he shouted, totally consumed by the rapture.

She realized in the afters, as she lay sated and boneless across the length of his body, that this last round was the first time Draco had _actually_ said the phrase, "I love you," to her that whole day.

Exhausted, they fell into slumber within minutes of each other, he still inside her, she lying atop him, their arms about each other.

**X~~~~~X**

Hermione awoke sometime the next morning sore all over and feeling as if she'd had one too many Butterbeers. She blinked, rubbed at her eyes, and looked around the room.

Draco was gone.

Panic set in. Had something happened to him?

As she rolled towards the edge of the mattress to get up, two entwined objects on the bedside table caught her eye and gave her pause: her red ribbon was neatly draped over a small, cream-colored note card with her name on it.

The moment she reached out and her fingers caressed her favorite gift, red flame engulfed her hand, warming her and providing comfort. Touching the ribbon was like coming home after a long time lost in a storm: calming, soothing. It didn't emit seductive or illusionary feelings like an item bespelled with a lust enchantment should (at least according to the books she'd read on the subject of love charms and potions). Instead, it felt like good magic - like it was imbued with the promise of protection and shelter. She found that she _wanted_ to wear it.

She opened the card next and read it:

_The room is yours for the day, if you want. _  
_There's food on the table._  
_See you back at the castle later._  
_I love you._

There was no signature, but there was also no doubt in her mind who'd written the note.

Re-reading the last line, a tremendous weight was lifted from Hermione's shoulders. She'd been a little concerned that the events of yesterday and last night might have been chalked up to one big, unflattering mistake on Malfoy's part in the light of the new day. If he'd changed his mind about them this morning, she'd have been positively crushed.

Yes, all right, she'd said she wanted to trust him, and she was _truly _trying to do so, but if she had to be completely honest, she had good reasons for her fears. First, her self-esteem wasn't at an all-time high this year, and it had recently taken a serious hit from one Mister Ron Weasley, a.k.a. Captain Insensitive. So, she was finding it a bit hard to believe that someone like Draco – an attractive, intelligent young man with a very luscious backside - actually found her interesting and sexy. Second, she still secretly harbored some small doubts about the longevity of the abrupt change in her lover's attitude, particularly as pertaining to her, a Muggle-born whose best friends were on just about every Slytherin's "hit list". Third, she was a terrible realist, and was quite aware that she and Malfoy were both still teenagers, clearly hot and heavy about their first romance (she assumed it was such for him, as it was for her – which brought up the question of how many girls had he been with anyway, as clearly he was no novice in bed?). What would happen to them once the "new" was 'rubbed off' of their relationship, however? The range of possibilities left her positively uneasy.

Still, she'd promised to try to learn to trust him, and so far, he hadn't done anything to hurt her. She had to believe that he'd meant every word he'd said yesterday, and that he wanted them to be together as much as she did.

On that note, she folded and tucked her fears away for the time being, and got up to search for her wand. She was badly in need of a good cleaning and refreshing spell, as well as a healing charm for her sore muscles.

After eating, redressing, and tying her frizzy hair up with the ribbon, she headed back to the castle, taking a Thestral-drawn carriage for the drive home. When she arrived back at the Gryffindor common room later that afternoon, Ginny immediately ambushed her. Her friend started up out of her cozy chair as soon as Hermione's foot stepped through the portrait, grabbed her wrist in a firm hold, and tugged her through the room without so much as a, "hello - how are you?" The two made a beeline straight to Hermione's dorm room. When they got there, her redheaded friend checked to make sure no one else was around, shut the door behind her, and spelled it for privacy.

"Talk," she demanded. "And don't leave anything out. I want all the juicy details!"

Once more hidden behind her bed curtains with even more privacy spells (in case someone walked in, as Gin hadn't _locked_ the door, merely shut it), Hermione related the events of yesterday and today. Her BFF's eyes were like saucers throughout the telling, and several times, she'd actually squealed in delight. When she'd finished, she noticed that the other witch had standing tears in her eyes.

"Merlin, Malfoy actually _does_ love you!" Gin seemed quite awed by that fact.

Hermione blushed, putting her hands to her cheeks in embarrassment. "Yes, it's so odd, isn't it? I mean, I never thought this could happen to me - especially not with him."

"You realize that you're going to need more of those pills?" Leave it to her friend to quickly point out the practical aspects of sexual intercourse in between the gushing. "I've got a few more I can give you, but you're going to have to take a trip to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and pick us up some more soon."

"I didn't know they sold… well, you know… _that _kind of thing there!" Hermione was actually surprised to learn that one of her favorite potions vendors sold alternative birth control options alongside vials of Flobberworm mucus and jars of Scurvy grass.

Ginny nodded, her long hair swaying in beat with the motion. "They're in the back, behind the counter. You have to ask for them."

"Oh," she replied in a small voice, feeling very naïve. Well, _of course_ an Apothecary would carry health-related potions, pills, and spell components. It made perfect sense in the wizarding world. "Um, so how 'soon' is 'soon'? How many pills have you got left?" she asked.

Her girl friend considered it. "Six or seven - certainly enough for _you _for the week, but not for the both of us."

"But I thought you said-"

Ginny grinned impishly, that knowing look back in her eyes. "I've been dating Dean since Michael and I broke up. What do you _think _we've been doing?"

Hermione blinked, her cheeks coloring again. After the conversation they'd had the other day at The Three Broomsticks, she'd just assumed that Ginny's love life was pretty awful. She hadn't considered that Dean might actually be the girl's new lover. "Oh," was all she could think to say.

"You're a funny one, 'Mione!" Ginny chuckled, clucking her on the shoulder. "When do you think you can go?" she asked, getting back down to business.

At seventeen, Hermione knew that she was now considered an adult in the wizarding world. Her age, coupled with her Prefect's status, her proven track record of responsibility (aside from dealing with Harry's various antics over the years, that was), and her excellent rapport with the staff, gave her an extra allowance to visit Hogsmeade for supplies when necessary while school was in session. Disapparating to Diagon Alley once she was outside the gates of Hogwarts would be an easy thing to accomplish. It would also be untraced, and she could easily dismiss the visit as an extra supply run (especially if she stopped over at Flourish and Blotts before coming back, a new Potions book for Harry in hand).

She considered her schedule. Monday was booked with classes all day, but she only had Potions Lecture for three hours in the morning on Tuesday. She'd be done by noon. "Tuesday afternoon," she decided.

"Great!" her companion cheered, unfolding her legs and preparing to return to her room. "I'll get you what pills I have left from my stash. I won't be seeing Dean until Wednesday evening, so I won't need them. Besides, I'm sure you won't be able to keep your hands off of Malfoy now that you've tasted his 'forbidden fruit'." She giggled. "You're going to need them more than me, I think."

Hermione sighed, but did not dispute the charge, knowing Ginny was right.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:**

**Obviously for the sake of this fic, the edict that Hogsmeade weekends are cancelled after Katie Bell's cursed necklace incident has been suspended. **

**Also, for the sake of this fic, I have decided that a Floo is located inside the Owl Post Office in Hogsmeade. It's never mentioned one way or the other, so it's not really breaking canon (technically) to add one here. After all, you'd think someone in Hogsmeade would be connected up to the Floo Network, yeah?**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter: **

_**"Everything (Acoustic version)"**_** by Tiesto & JES (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)**


	27. Ch 27: First Steps

**Chapter Twenty-seven: First Steps**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland_**

**_November 18, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year) _**

The following Monday morning, Hermione awoke in her bed in her dorm, and felt her stomach fluttering with sincere trepidation. Today she would see her new lover in a school setting – all day, in fact, as Draco shared both of her three-hour long classes, and would be having all of his meals at the same time as she did. She couldn't help but wonder what, if anything, they should pretend in front of their classmates. They'd not discussed how to behave, nor had they defined the parameters of their new relationship once in the last two days.

For the briefest of seconds, she considered pulling the covers back up over her head and hiding.

_For goodness sake, where's your Gryffindor courage?_

With a resigned sigh, she got up, collected her shower kit, a towel and a change of clothes, and headed off to the dorm's showers, shunning the Prefect's bathroom in favour of expediency. When she'd finished drying her hair and dressing, she once again pulled her curls back into a ponytail and tied her favourite red ribbon around it. Collecting her books and bucking up her courage, she made her way down to the dining hall.

A glance at the Slytherin table told her that Draco hadn't yet arrived. She sat down across from Neville, Harry, and Ginny, noting that Ron and Lavender were not in attendance. The four engaged in small talk about the Quidditch team, Slughorn's upcoming party, classes, and in the doing, Hermione ostensibly avoided any discussion of Draco with Harry.

She'd been enjoying her morning scone and tea as Neville droned on about the medicinal properties of the toxic henbane – a brand new discovery for him that he was excited to share - when a jolt of streaking energy passed through her body. _Look, he's come for you,_ the unknown woman she'd been hearing lately alerted her, and she glanced up to the room's entrance to see Draco sauntering in.

He stopped in the middle of the open double doors and his head immediately swivelled to her, as if he'd been called by some unknown force as well. Their gazes connected and instant, unexpected heat bloomed through her core, making her belly clench. Hermione's mouth went dry, and her body tightened and quivered with sexual energy. Without thought, she was on her feet and staring across the distance between them, contemplating taking that first step in his direction. What would people say if she did?

Draco took the pressure of such a decision from her. As if magnetically drawn to her side, he made his way across the room to her without pause.

Over the course of the seconds it took for him to reach her, she became aware of every voice in the room tapering off and going silent. She felt the weight of dozens of eyes watching the scene unfold, their expectation hanging like a heavy, humid thundercloud in the air over her and Draco both. The crowd anticipated a nasty confrontation, and the range of their emotions – concern, malicious delight, irritation, and fear – set her teeth on edge.

Malfoy stopped less than an arm length's away, his face cool and neutral. She met his impassive grey gaze, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hi," he murmured.

"Hi," she returned.

The familiarity of the greeting was enough to remind her of their encounter on Saturday all over again. The memory of his touches, his kisses, the way he'd felt while moving inside her… A gentle, warm desire spread through her limbs.

Vaguely, she was aware that the other students, the few staff up at the front, and the ghosts hovering about the room were wondering the same thing: Where were the shouts, taunts, threats, and scathing glances already? Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger never failed to provide such entertainment, so why hadn't they gotten to it?

In the back of her mind, Hermione knew that what they were doing was both foolish and dangerous. Rumours spread fast in this place. Would word reach outsiders via Owl Post, and cause Draco to be in trouble with his dark master? How would Voldemort take his newest recruit playing footsy – and much more – with his greatest enemy's best friend?

Even knowing the peril they faced, however, it seemed impossible to stop.

Reaching into the bag at his side, Draco rummaged around for something. He gave her a sidelong glance when he found it, and threw her a naughty smirk. "Close your eyes," he instructed.

She raised an eyebrow at him in questioning. Was he really doing this here, now, in front of everyone? And what did he have to give her?

"Don't you trust me, Granger?" he asked in dry mocking tone, reminding her of their previous conversation on the subject.

The world narrowed until it was only the two of them.

"I trust you."

Hissed surprise came from the audience, but Hermione ignored them, closing her eyes. He hadn't hurt her before when they'd played this game, and she reminded her thudding heart to believe in what they'd built this weekend. It was another leap of faith, and she took it, hoping for the best.

With a gentle tug, he brought her hand up and dropped something into it. "For you. Open," he bid.

In her hand lay a silver box of truffles with a green bow wrapped around it.

Her gasp mingled with that of dozens in the hall, although hers was different in that it contained delight, not astonished confusion - especially as she recalled all of the things they'd done with the last box of chocolate he'd given her. Murmurs flew around the room from the spectators, but again, she discounted them, and focused only on Draco.

They shared a secret smile.

Malfoy seemed extraordinarily pleased with himself and his gift as he strutted over to the bench at Gryffindor's table and plopped his bum down as if he belonged there. "Everyone likes candy, Granger," he said, leaning his elbows back on the table and giving her a wicked and cocky smirk. "Even me. Besides, chocolate's good for perking you up and inciting a good mood."

She picked up on his hidden meaning, and felt a fiery blush rouge her cheeks. Taking a seat next to him, she placed the truffle box in her bag. "Thank you," she replied, pleased and slightly confused by the turn of events.

In less than two minutes, Draco had just publicly announced that he and she had _some_ sort of new relationship going, and that she was special to him, but he'd done it in such a way as to make the whole thing feel casual and natural. She hadn't known what to expect this morning when she'd woken up, but _this _was certainly not one of the scenarios she'd dreamed up in her head in the shower. Her new boyfriend really was quite a clever snake, wasn't he?

"You eating that scone?" he asked, reminding her to finish her breakfast.

His words jostled her out of her mooning, and she grabbed her tea cup for wont of anything better to do. Taking a sip, she wet her whistle. "Have you eaten?" she asked, still ignoring the shocked faces about them.

"Obviously not. I just got in, didn't I?" He threw her a teasing grin. "But thanks for offering to share yours." In a quick move, he snatched her scone off her plate, finishing it in a single bite.

"I was eating that," she archly informed him.

He swallowed, dabbed his mouth with a clean napkin that he pulled off the table from an unused setting, and threw her a saucy wink. "No, you weren't. You were ogling me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed at his playful antics. "I _wasn't_ ogling you, and by all means: help yourself," she gestured to the pile of pastries in the middle of the table.

"Think I will," he said and reached over to grab another scone off a platter in the middle of the table. As he did so, he glanced up to meet Harry's suspicious stare. The two exchanged a silent look of loathing.

Hermione recognized that look in her best friend's expression – he was royally brassed off. She cringed, tensing for a verbal battle.

"Potter," Draco greeted with a nod of his head and an even tone.

"Malfoy," Harry gritted from between clenched teeth in return.

How was it possible to pack so much hatred into one word – a last name, at that?

She waited with held breath to see if Harry would say any more, but thankfully, he didn't. Apparently, he bought the lie that she was now dating Draco only to uncover his secrets, so although her best friend might not like it, he'd restrain his natural impulses and not give her away.

Across the table, she traded a glance with Ginny, who shook her head once, giving her a silent signal not to interfere. Hermione knew her friend was right. She'd let this be Draco's fight. If he wanted to be with her, he'd have to find a way to deal with Harry. On the flip side, what Harry didn't _really _know wouldn't hurt him, either.

Harry got up to leave, evidently having reached the limit of his politeness quota for the day. "See you in class, Hermione," he grated and left for the Potions Lab.

When her dark-haired friend was out of sight, Hermione expelled the breath she'd been holding. The buzzing all about her, however, grew to clamorous proportions. Here and there, she caught her name in a whispered conversation. The voices were like a hammer slamming against the back of her neck. They threatened to unnerve her and her courage wavered for a moment.

"Can I walk you to class?" Draco turned to ask her, seemingly unaffected by his near brush with violence. He took a bite of a cinnamon-orange morning bun, and hummed in pleasure at the flavour. Sugar crystals dotted his bottom lip when he pulled away, and in that moment, all Hermione could think of was leaning forward and licking his mouth clean. "Well?" he asked. "Can I?" He reached for her tea and drank out of her cup as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to do.

Hermione was irked by his unnaturally calm demeanour. How could he not be affected by the gossiping tongues all about them, by Harry's reaction, and worse, by unintentionally turning her on with food? "I was thinking of allowing you that privilege, but if you keep eating my breakfast and drinking my tea, I might reconsider."

He threw her a cheeky grin, understanding that she wasn't really upset with him, so much as with the situation. She also knew he was deliberately being a prat, trying to make things better by turning intimate gestures into the mundane so people wouldn't read too much meaning into how he treated her. Slytherin manoeuvring, it seemed, was an art form he'd long ago perfected.

From across the table, Ginny snorted. "You know he's going to anyway."

They both turned their attention to her redheaded friend across the way. Ginny focused on Draco, measuring him carefully over the rim of her tea cup as she took a long sip.

"Listen to the She-Weasel, Granger," he teased. "She's hammered the nail in the coffin this time."

Gin suddenly put her cup down. The loud 'thunk' of the ceramic hitting the hard wood was loud in the once more silent room. She leapt to her feet, her gaze boring into the blond at Hermione's side. "If you hurt my friend, Malfoy," the girl threatened loud enough for the whole room to hear, "I'll melt your bollocks with a hex I'll invent just for the occasion."

On pins and needles, Hermione waited for a response, her gaze moving between her lover and her best girl friend. She worried Draco might fall back on his scathing, snarky ways this time, having tolerated Harry's jibe and reached his limit.

As cool as a cucumber, Malfoy stared back at the challenging witch and nodded. "Couldn't have that now, could we?" he responded, speaking in a loud enough voice to make his intentions rather clear to the whole room.

Hermione was floored. In that one sentence, he'd just affirmed to everyone in school that he was _really_ serious about her. She thought she might die on the spot, not from mortification, but something akin to pride.

"Right, then," Ginny concluded, satisfied by his answer. She sat back down to finish her breakfast with a firm nod and a smile for them both. "Have at."

Hermione threw a thankful smile towards her friend for her open acknowledgement of the relationship between herself and Draco. Doing that would help the gossip die down faster, and keep the judgments to a minimum.

Feeling emboldened, she reached into her robe's inner pocket, fished out one of the pills Ginny had given her yesterday, and looking around to make sure no one noticed, broke open the package and popped it into her mouth. Then, she finished off her tea, quaking in her shoes the whole time.

**X~~~~~X**

Draco walked at her side as they made their way out of the dining hall. He didn't hold her hand, but just his presence was enough, as it became clear that he really did want her – enough to brave the whole school's displeasure, especially that of his friends in Slytherin.

As they made their way out, Hermione ignored the glare she could feel emanating from Ron. He had come in during the whole Ginny-Draco showdown, Lavender attached to his arm as if they were Velcroed together, and had taken a seat down the end of Gryffindor's table, close to the Patil twins (who always sat together) and Fay Dunbar. While Lavender caught up on the gossip from her friends, Ron's silent disapproval of her choice was hard to ignore as he openly frowned and glowered at her.

Despite the fact she had no romantic feelings towards the boy any longer, she still couldn't help but feel a nervous flutter in her stomach knowing he now considered her 'camping out with the enemy,' and therefore, guilty by association. His opinion shouldn't hurt her – he _had_ made his bed, after all - but in truth, it did. The reason was obvious: this day represented a turning point in their long-time friendship; their bonds would be strained now, perhaps even severed, as a result of her dating the one wizard that Ron had detested for years. It saddened her, but at the same time, she recognized that if she and her ginger-haired best friend had gotten together when the chance had presented itself earlier this year, they would have made each other miserable by now, and they'd be at this point anyway. It was better that they had avoided such a fate - although she rather wished there was no negativity between them at all. Perhaps, one day, they could return to the comfort levels they'd previously known, though. She would hold onto that hope.

As if sensing her need for quiet, Draco remained close-mouthed at her side all the way down to the Potions Lab, a silent, supportive companion. He took the stool next to her, ignoring the questioning looks he received from his fellow Slytherins gathered at their usual table. She peeked across the aisle at Harry, who threw a wary glance her way, but said nothing to her for the remainder of the class.

Draco was the perfect lab partner for the day's assignment: he was neat, organized, and extremely proficient in ingredient identification, handling, and measuring. He followed directions to the letter, and aided her in producing a perfect recipe. They worked quite well together. As a result, they'd finished their daily brew well ahead of the other partners, each receiving an "O" for their efforts. Professor Slughorn was so pleased that he gave them both great praise before the class, and allowed them to leave early. The two cleaned up their workbench, and Hermione threw a suspicious Harry a tentative smile as she left the room, Draco trailing behind her.

As the door clanged shut behind them, Malfoy grabbed her hand in a firm grasp, rushed past her on those long legs of his, and dragged her down the hallway behind him. He made a few dizzying turns, obviously knowing this part of the dungeon well, and led her through a solid oak door into a small, unused stairwell. Once safely secured away on the other side, he waved his wand to lock the door, tossed both of their bags to the floor, pushed her against the wall, and proceeded to ravish her. Hermione melted against him, returning his kiss with an equal fervency.

When he tore his mouth from hers, he growled. "Stones, I've wanted to do that all morning!"

"Me, too," she shyly admitted.

Pressing his cheek to hers, he trailed light kisses over her jaw and temple. "Overall, things have gone rather well this morning, don't you think?"

Relaxing into the intimate contact, Hermione stuck her nose into his collar and inhaled his cologne. "Mmmm, yes. Thank you for that. I wasn't sure what to do, as we hadn't made a plan."

Draco chuckled. "Plan for everything, don't you?"

She nodded. "But… I'm concerned that it may have been too bold of you at this point. What about word getting out about us? What if your parents find out or worse… _him?" _She tightened her hold on his sleeves."You'd be in trouble. If You-Know-Who found out about us…"

His arms came around her, pulling her tight to his chest. "If he does, I'll say it's all part of a plan I have to throw off Potter, and that I'm using you to-"

He abruptly closed his mouth, halting that line of thought.

"To, what?" she asked, leaning back and looking him in the eye. Had he been ordered to do something by Voldemort?

There was indecision in his return gaze, and his lips pursed together in a tight line. "Forget I said anything," he decided. When she opened her mouth to protest, he put a hand over her lips. "We talked about this when you were in the Hospital, remember? It's dangerous for you to know too much."

She frowned, frustrated, and took a breath to counter his decision.

"Let it be for now, Granger."

There was a growl in his tone and a stubborn look to his granite gaze, telling her to back off.

Hermione had never found anything more difficult to give than what he asked from her right then. Her natural curiosity was piqued, and she sensed Draco faced a world of trouble that he needed help to wade through. Normally, she'd take the bull by the horns and demand he tell her everything, but there was something in the hard set of his shoulders and in his clenched jaw that shut her down… for the moment.

Fine. She would do as he asked and let him keep his secrets a little longer, because really, it wasn't as if she didn't have some of her own to keep from him – namely, that she was hearing a strange voice in her head, that she suspected they were being magically coerced into being together, and that she let Harry think she was using Draco to suss out his diabolical plans. Later, though, when he was more comfortable with her and with them as a couple, she would get it out of her boyfriend what he was up to. This was not a subject she intended to let fall by the wayside just because they were romantically connected now.

She let out a deep breath and nodded. "All right, I'll trust you."

He looked very relieved.

It took only a moment for his temper to change again. The change was evident in the sudden lowering of his lids, and the slow, sensual smirk that wound its way up his cheek. He leaned forward, causing her body to relax against the wall, and shifted his embrace so that he gripped her hips. "Tell me, was that a contraceptive pill you took at the breakfast table?" he asked, pressing his mouth to her neck and bathing the sensitive skin there with his naughty tongue.

Godric, the things this man could do with his mouth should be outlawed! "Y-yes," she admitted around a gasp as he nipped her earlobe. Goosebumps broke out across her flesh. "Ginny gave it to me yesterday."

He snickered and it was a sinful sound. "Sneaky, girl." Reaching up under her skirt, he pressed his fingers against her knickers, rubbing the cotton between her slit and dampening it with her sexual response. "Think you can keep quiet if I fuck you right here?" he whispered the question, running his blunted nails between the band and her skin, barely touching her curls.

Breathless with anticipation, she quivered in his arms. Almighty Merlin, he was going to take her again - right here, right now!

No, they _really_ shouldn't do this! So far, they'd been tremendously lucky that they hadn't been caught, but sex in a stairwell was really tempting fate - not to mention, seriously breaking the rules…

Moving the band of her panties aside, Draco's fingers slid between her creamy lower lips. He circled her clit on the upstroke, heightening her need. Red fire flashed behind her eyelids. Lust grabbed a tight hold of her and rode her like a demon, burning through her veins in scalding waves.

Oh, to heck with it! Rules were made to be broken! She'd done it enough times for Harry and Ron since their first year. Surely, she could do it for herself, too. "Use your wand and cast _Muffliato_," she demanded, kneading her nails into her wizard's upper arms, desperate to feel him inside her once more.

"No, I want to see if we can do this," he murmured, turning her to face the wall. "Just try not to make too much noise."

Behind her, Draco slipped her knicks down her legs, and they fell to the floor. Hermione kicked them off, as she heard the clink of his belt buckle come undone. His zip was pulled down in a rush. The sound of heavy fabric hitting the floor told her his trousers and pants were around his ankles. "I won't last long once I'm in," he warned her, tilting her forward a bit and lifting her skirt up and over her waist. Against the sway of her hind, she felt his heavy length rubbing up and down, and from below, two fingers entered her wet heat, pumping in and out. "Let me make you come like this first."

She nodded, unable to reply, her breath stolen by his rhythm. His other hand came around her waist from the front and caressed her clit, causing her heart to stutter in her chest. His mouth hovered over her ear, panting hot air and whispering fiendishly immoral things to her. "I love how wet you are for me. Feel that? You're drenching my hand."

His tempo increased and her thighs shook as she was driven closer to the edge.

"My naughty, little Granger… Give to me. Let me feel you let go."

She stifled a loud moan against her forearm, biting down to keep from crying out. The scent of her arousal was thick in the air. Anyone coming this way would surely smell it through the door…

"I _knew_ you'd be like this. I knew it back in September when we almost shagged on that desk," he relentlessly continued to seduce her with his words and his voice, his fingers playing her with devious skill. "I knew it on Halloween, when you wore that sexy, little costume, too. I knew it on Friday night, when you crawled into my lap and kissed me like you were starving for me. And Saturday…" He groaned and removed his fingers from her all at once, causing her to cry out in dismay. The sound morphed into a low moan as he nudged the head of his wet, straining erection into her, opening her up. "Saturday, you were so beautiful. You brought me to my knees, Hermione."

Gripping her naked hips, he thrust hard, stretching her wide and filling her up with one surge. Their flesh slapped together as their bodies met. Hermione muted her scream by again biting into her arm.

Draco froze. "Did I hurt you?"

Frantically, she shook her head. How could she tell him that what he was doing felt so good that she wanted to let the whole world know it? "Don't stop," she begged in a whisper, her knees shaking – no, her _whole body_ shuddering with pleasure. Her desperation for climax tore at her sanity, and as she clenched her fingers to hold onto something solid and real, her nails dug into the stone wall.

He pulled out, slammed back in once, twice, three times, his breath coming in a heavy pant against the nape of her neck. "Fuck… It's like your pussy doesn't want to let me go. You're soaking wet, and hot, and so _bloody_ tight!"

Fire burned through her veins in a rush. Head to toe, she came alive with a thrumming need, her body responding to her lover's possession, recognizing a pleasure beyond what she'd ever dreamed possible. Godric, no wonder her roommates spoke of sex as being the ultimate high! She felt like she was flying, and it was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time. The feeling was addicting, and made her feel beautiful and invincible.

In her heart, though, she knew she only felt this way because of _him_ - because it was _Draco_ she was doing this with. It would never be this way with anyone else. Something deep in her soul whispered that taunt to her like a repetitive chant - reminding her of how fragile this new thing was between them, and how easily it could be lost, never to be found again.

He withdrew to the very end of his length and then pounded back into her with another firm shove, sucking in a breath in a sharp hiss. "Ah… _gods_… Hermione, come. Come soon! I can't…!"

She reached down between her legs and stroked over the throbbing, sensitive nub of flesh between her legs just as he rammed into her again, propelling her forward onto her tiptoes. She splintered apart as fire flashed behind her eyelids. Smothering her high, keening wail in the sleeve of her shirt, her orgasm caused her spine to bow and her mind to fuzz. Her chest heaved with strangled gasps as she struggled for breath, even as she felt the hot rush of Draco's seed pulsing deep within her. His teeth were firmly latched onto her shoulder, and he stifled his own unintelligible cry in the fabric of her jumper as he experienced his release.

It took many minutes for the two of them to regain some measure of strength and control. Her lover's softening member slipped from between her legs as he stepped back, and a gush of warm fluid accompanied his withdrawal. It leaked down her thighs and dripped onto the floor between her feet. Embarrassment flamed her cheeks.

"Tell me you love me."

This was becoming his habitual demand either during or after they made love, she noticed. Not that she minded, as she was finding it rather endearing to confess her newly discovered feelings to him aloud. "I love you, Draco," she said, pulling her skirt back down around her hips. "Now you tell me," she requested, turning around to face him, straightening her wrinkled shirt and jumper.

He was zipping his trousers back into place when he smiled over at her, and it was a charming, boyish look. "I love you." He made quick work of readjusting his belt, and assuring his shirt tails were tucked, and then he reached for her. Wrapping his arms about her, he picked her up and whirled her around once. "I love you, you maddening woman! Isn't it strange?"

Gripping his shoulders, blinking away the dizziness that had accompanied his fast twirling, she laughed. "Yes, it is, but I'm willing to take a few things on faith," she admitted. "Now, tell me how it's possible for you to find me maddening. I'm a perfectly reasonable witch, I would like to think."

He relaxed just enough pressure to let her skim down his body and for her feet to touch the floor. The movement caused her skirt to bunch around her waist again. "Maddening in that you make me hard for you all the time," he teased, planting a kiss upon her lips. "Knowing you're standing here without knickers on" -he reached between her thighs and stroked over her sensitive, very wet core- "and that this is _my_ come on you… _in_ you… turns me on, baby."

She smacked his arm, stepped back, and lowered her skirt with a prim tug. "Don't be crude."

Locating her unmentionables in a bunch near the wall, she took possession of them and slipped them back up her legs. Before she could retrieve her bag, though, he'd pinned her to the wall again, a rascally smile on his handsome face. His fingers reached under her skirt again, and he played with her once more over her knickers. "Now, all day you'll feel me," he murmured, teasing her lips with light kisses as his fingers shoved her panties up against her damp opening. "Crude or not, I'm inside of you."

That was all it took for her body to decide it wasn't quite as sated as she'd believed.

Reaching up, she clasped her arms about Draco's neck and started playing with the hair at the base of his neck. "Can we do it again?" she whispered against his mouth around his kisses.

He laughed and pulled away, resting his hands on her hips instead. "If we didn't have class later, I'd be shagging you until you couldn't walk straight, Granger. But, I won't be able to function for the rest of the day if I do so, and I doubt Snape would like me falling asleep in his class."

She sighed in disappointment. "Rain check?"

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Later tonight?"

Oooh, a clandestine meeting! Another rule breaker. She_ really_ shouldn't this time. It would be irresponsible. She was a Prefect, after all, and she was gunning for Head Girl next year...

"Where? What time?"

He considered it. "Prefect's bathroom, ten o'clock."

There might actually be a problem with his plan – one involving a certain Ravenclaw who took her Prefect rounds as seriously as Hermione did. "We're going to have to be careful not to get caught out of bed at that time. Padma's on corridor duty and she's sharp."

Malfoy gave her a naughty wiggle of his brows and a grin worthy of trouble. "Trust me."

Her stomach fluttering at the thought of them enjoying the privacy of a large bath together, Hermione nodded her acceptance of the plan.

With that, they _Scourgify_'d their clothing for good measure and collected their bags. Draco held her hand as they exited the dungeon and all the way up into the Great Hall, where they shared an early lunch at her House table.

**X~~~~~X**

Defence Against the Dark Arts passed much too slowly that afternoon.

Despite the fact that Professor Snape hovered like a black cloud over the groups of students working together on the day's assigned counter-hexes, Hermione was continually distracted in her efforts by memories of what she and Draco had done earlier in the stairwell, and daydreams of what they were going to do later that night in the Prefects' bath. Of course, it didn't help that her new lover chose to partner-up with her on the assignment. Being in such close proximity to Draco, and finding new and inventive ways of "accidentally" brushing up against each other as they worked was honestly detracting from each of their attentions to the day's lesson.

The rational part of Hermione's mind cautioned her to find a way to split them up so they could actually get work accomplished. However, every time she opened her mouth to suggest it, Malfoy would caress the back of her hand, or rub his reawakened erection against her hip or the back of her thigh, or stand close enough for her to inhale his cologne. Her mind would instantly go blank in such instances, and it would take her several seconds to regain her composure. By then, her resolve to send him to the far end of the classroom had melted away.

Gah, this whole being in love for the first time – _real _love, and not the immature, unrequited interest that she'd felt for Ron for years – was as patently diverting as she'd often heard it described! Why, she was beginning to appear as besotted for Draco as Lavender was for "Won-Won". It was, quite honestly, unsettling.

Snape practically breathed down their necks the entire class, too. She could tell that their teacher had seen the coy looks and touches that she and Malfoy shared as they laboured together to "perfect" their spells, and that he was particularly bothered by their flirtations. For his part, her boyfriend appeared oblivious to the Potions Master's gaze for most of the time.

There was one time, however, near the end of the period, when Draco suddenly looked up at the Professor with an annoyed expression on his face. Hermione paid close attention as the two wizards silently locked horns for several heartbeats before Professor Snape broke the staring contest and turned his interest towards the other students.

_What was that all about?_ she wondered.

At the end of class, Draco stayed behind to talk to their instructor, motioning for Hermione to go ahead and wait for him out in the hallway. Harry caught her hand on the way out and dragged her into the empty classroom next door instead.

"Hermione, what's going on?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. "For someone who's supposed to be pretending to date Malfoy, you certainly seem pretty enamoured of each other."

She blushed and looked down at her feet. "Harry…"

He cut her off with an abrupt motion of his hand. "Listen to me, 'Mione: you have to be careful of Draco Malfoy. He's a master manipulator, and he's violent. Getting my nose broken at the beginning of this Term proves that. If he even suspects that you're seeing him under false pretences, he could really hurt you."

Desperate to explain her point of view, but knowing Harry's unswerving prejudice and hatred for Slytherin's Prince wouldn't change with words alone, Hermione decided not to offer up any counter explanation. Anything she said would be dismissed as her being too blinded by rose-coloured glasses to recognize the truth, anyway. She'd just have to give her best friend time to get used to the idea that Draco had changed since the start of the school year, and for the better. Perhaps by seeing how good Malfoy treated her now, Harry would eventually come to accept that things were different with his long-time rival.

Yes, she just had to trust in Ginny's plan, as it seemed the most logical and successful way to tackle the situation.

Pulling the mantle of self-possession about her shoulders, she squared off with her best friend. "Harry, I can handle Malfoy. Stop worrying." When he made to argue, she put her hand up to halt his words. "I'm a big girl – older than you by almost a full year, I would remind you. I can handle my own affairs. Please stay out of it."

He pursed his lips, obviously biting back the words he wanted to say, but finally nodded in concession. "Right, we'll play it your way for now. Have you found out anything yet?"

He was so earnest, so trusting...

And yet, in the next breath, Hermione knew that she was going to lie straight to Harry's face regarding his suspicions about her new boyfriend's allegiance to Voldemort, because she _had_ to protect Draco's secret. His life, quite possibly his family's lives, and even her own life depended upon her continued, vigilant silence about his Death Eater status. Only Professor Dumbledore knew, and it needed to stay that way until she could work out a plan with Draco to help him get out of the mess he was in.

Although she hated herself for what she was about to do, she did it anyway, and with a small shake of her head. "No, nothing yet. It will take time to get that kind of information. We only agreed to see each other this last weekend."

Harry nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. "Okay, Hermione, I trust this to you. Find out what you can as soon as possible, though. Time isn't on our side. We're at war, remember."

She nodded, turned, and left the abandoned classroom without another word, fighting back the guilty tears that threatened to choke her. Without thought to where she was headed, her legs carried her through the corridors and up the Grand Stairs, her stride hastening by the minute. She was at a full sprint by the time she hit the fifth stairwell, and didn't stop until she reached her dorm room on the seventh. As she ran, her bag heavily flapped against her hip, threatening to trip her up.

Only when she was behind the closed door of her room, with her face pressed into her pillow, did she give into her shame and remorse, and cry. _I'm sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry for lying! But please understand_, she silently pleaded, _I love him_._ I don't know how it happened, but I… I love him so much that… I'm not sure I can be without him now!_

The frightening part was, she knew in her heart that her feelings for Draco were now so important to her that if she were forced to choose between him and Harry, Hermione wasn't sure which side of the line she'd put her foot down on. Would she someday have to abandon her friends for Malfoy, or would she be forced to become the enemy of the wizard she'd given her heart to?

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED…_**

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN:**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter:**

**_"Take My Breath Away"_**** by Emma Bunton**


	28. Ch 28: I Look At You, And I See…

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

An extra 2500 words were added to this chapter compared to revision 1.0. If you've read that previous version, let me know what you think of the extra, fleshed-out scenes. If you're new to this story, let me know your thoughts about the story thus far. I'd love to hear your opinions, and even your guesses as to what you think will happen next…

Also, are you all listening to the song recommendations at the end of each chapter? I usually listen to those specific songs when rewriting these chapters, so they're inspiration that set the mood. Give them a listen if you haven't been. You can find pretty much all of them on Youtube.

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**Chapter Twenty-eight: I Look At You, And I See…**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland**_

_**November 18, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)**_

Draco was furious. Snape had tried to use Legilimency on him right in the middle of their Defence Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon. Sneaky fucking bastard!

When he'd stayed after class to confront the man on it, his godfather had claimed he'd merely been concern for Draco's behaviour – specifically, his uncharacteristic flirting with Hermione Granger.

"Not that it's any of your business," he impertinently replied, "but I'm playing her. She has information in that brain of hers that could be vital to me completing the tasks I've been assigned." He feigned smug arrogance, hating the words coming out of his mouth, but understanding their necessity. "A few kisses in stolen corners and she's already inspired me. Of course, she has no idea. The dumb bint actually thinks I like her." He sniffed, and turned his nose up. "As if."

_Liar, _the 'other' in the back of his mind hissed at him.

With a vicious tug, Draco tamped down on his mental walls, shutting the terrible side of his personality away. It took some serious effort, though, and he actually broke a sweat from the mental exertion.

Snape noticed, of course. The man's black eyes narrowed. "Whatever game you're playing with Miss Granger, I advise you to immediately end it. If one of your classmates happens to write home about your little love play with her of all people…"

Draco waved the other man off. "_He_ slides through my head all the time, so it's not like he won't find out eventually what I'm up to." There was no question as to whom he was referring in this case, as his godfather was a Death Eater as well, and he was quite sure that the Dark Lord entered the other man's mind on a regular basis, too. "I'm sure he'd approve. Fucking Potter's little Mudblood would distract him - maybe even make The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy vulnerable. Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone this year."

Internally, he cringed over that last thought, but he played it up as the 'old Draco' would, not wanting to alert Snape to his change of loyalty.

"Don't make light of the situation, boy," Severus warned with a sneer. "This scheme of yours is dangerous. You're taking too much for granted where the Dark Lord is concerned."

Immediately, Draco felt pressure behind his left eye and recognized his professor's attempt to get into his head. He kept his mental walls locked up nice and tight, just as his Aunt Bella had taught him and began thinking of Muggle song lyrics. When the pressure eased up, he snarled. "You won't find whatever you're looking for, so leave off," he warned, tightening his grip on his wand. He gathered his school bag close to his side and stepped towards the door. "Stay out of my head, if you know what's good for you."

With that, he stormed out.

As the door slammed shut behind him, Draco checked up and down the corridor for Hermione, but saw no sign of her bushy head anywhere. Where the hell had his witch gone off to now? Had Potter said something to her? He'd noticed Scarhead glaring at the two of them all throughout class.

As D.A.D.A. had been his last class for the day, he decided to go look for her.

**X~~~~~X**

After an exhaustive check of the castle, Draco was able to rule out most of Granger's major haunts, as well as the corridors and bathrooms in between.

He stopped in the middle of the Grand Staircase and considered where to check next. Her House Tower would be the most logical spot, although he dreaded going there. Sucking it up, he decided to go hunt for a Gryffindor to help him get into their common room.

Walking up to the seventh floor, he turned to enter the corridor and came face-to-face with the perfect candidate to help him in his quest. "Hey, Longbottom, have you seen Granger?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

The pathetic geck had stopped short the moment Draco had turned the corner, undisguised panic flashing across his doughy features. It gave way to frowning mistrust the moment he heard Draco's question, however. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, making a show of bravado.

Draco gave him his best cold stare and crossed his arms. "Do you know or don't you?"

Longbottom seemed torn. "I saw you in the Great Hall this morning," he stated. "Is it true you two are dating now?"

There was a noticeable pause from the few students who were nearby, as if they were curious as to his answer to the question, too.

He shrugged, trying to make his interest in Gryffindor's Princess seem a casual thing. "Yeah, so?"

Neville's eyes practically bugged out of his head.

Draco sighed. "Look, I just need to talk to her," he explained, trying to sound reasonable. Longbottom was his best shot for getting past that blasted Fat Lady, so he was using his mother's favourite tactic of using honey to catch flies. The performance grated on his nerves, but he held steady to the plan. "Can you go check your common room and see if she's in there - _please?_"

Stones, he almost choked on that last bit!

The "Dud of Gryffindor," as Longbottom was known by all of Slytherin House, was completely astonished; his mouth literally dropped open. "Are you asking me for a favour, Malfoy?"

_For her_, Draco made the silent reminder, gritting his teeth to keep his temper. "Yes."

The Gryffindork actually stood there staring at him for a long, nerve-wracking minute, considering the circumstances, and Draco could just picture a mouse turning on in its wheel in the guy's brain.

"If I do this, I expect something from you," Longbottom dared.

Draco narrowed his eyes in warning, suspicious of the guy's intentions. "And what exactly would that be?"

The other wizard stood a little taller then, squaring his shoulders. He stated his price in a firm voice, fists clenched at his side. "I want you promise that you'll treat Hermione with respect and dignity. She's a nice girl – too nice for you. I don't want you hurting her."

Of course. He should have expected such a noble demand from the likes of a Gryffindor. Besides, it was obvious that Longbottom had always been a little taken with Granger.

He opened his mouth to retort some smart-arsed response, but paused noticing the shift in his unwitting companion's demeanor. Between one blink and the next, Neville's gaze hardened, and the promise of violence reflected within the man's green-gold depths.

Intuition told Draco that there was more going on here than just a simple request for decency. Clearly, the attachment the guy had for Hermione went deeper than mere childish infatuation. Was he actually in love with Gryffindor's Princess, too? It certainly seemed it. Why else would he be silently warning Draco not to make light of his condition where she was concerned with the threat of force?

Shite, the guy really did love her, didn't he? More than that, he would allow himself to get his arse whipped just to defend her honor. That kind of loyalty wasn't something Draco was very familiar with, as it couldn't be bought, cajoled, or bullied from another, but only freely given. In his whole life, the closest example he could point to that even came close would be his mother.

How was it that Hermione always seemed to engender this same type of devotion from everyone around her? Sure, some of the students still made fun of her behind her back – usually out of envy for her sheer fucking brilliance – but in general, if there was a problem, people turned to Granger to make it right. She was always the go-to girl, offering her tutoring services to any who had need, volunteering to sit with the younger students in the Hospital Wing and read to them if they wished, ensuring her fellow Prefects were taking their duties with all seriousness and keeping the castle safe and the students out of trouble, and assuring that no one abused the castle's house-elf staff, the portraits, or the ghosts. She championed everyone and everything, and the strangest thing was she never failed any of them – ever. Hell, even the teachers were taken with her! Draco, too, had fallen under her spell.

She really was a miracle.

_His_ miracle.

He smirked in appreciation of Longbottom's courage, foolhardy though he thought it to be, and nodded his assent to the stipulation placed upon him. "I'll do my best."

Neville remained wary for a few moments longer, assessing Draco for any insincerity. When he didn't find any, he nodded back in accord. "She said she trusted you, so I will, too - for now."

The guy turned towards his House's entrance, and Draco followed at a discreet distance. Unfortunately, because he remained several steps behind, he didn't hear the password given to the portrait, as Longbottom was careful to whisper it. However, he was given permission to enter by the rotund woman in the portrait as he had a Gryffindor escort.

Although he'd already seen Ravenclaw's Tower and Hufflepuff's basement, Draco had never actually been inside this particular common room. It was distinctly different from Slytherin's own, and in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable.

For one, it was in a Tower, so the room was much smaller than Slytherin's large, open entrance in the basement. As a result, it felt decidedly more claustrophobic, with its close, roundish walls. Second, it was on the seventh floor, and was too far off the ground for Draco's comfort. The thought of all of that empty space beneath the stones at his feet was enough to make his skin crawl. He may enjoy flying, but there was no broom available for him here. If the castle crumbled out from under him, he'd be one big splat on the cobblestones below. Third, everything was decorated in bright scarlet and gold colors that stung the eyes if you stared too hard at them. Draco much preferred more soothing colors. Fourth, the furniture took up the majority of the gathering space and looked well used. There was no leather anywhere, just a lot of soft fabrics and pillows. The place was more like a comfy study than a formal entrance. Finally, there were rugs and tapestries everywhere, and it was stifling hot because the insulated walls and floors held in the warmth from the fire in the hearth.

Basically, he didn't like it. The Tower was too cramped, informal and badly decorated for his tastes. Still, he wasn't here to set down roots. He was here to find _her_.

Neville had gone off up to the dorm areas to see if Granger was up there, leaving Draco in the room alone. Various Gryffindors who came in or walked past him stared at him as if he were a circus freak in the wrong part of the park, and Draco tried hard not to scowl back at them. He crossed his arms and gave them all a coolly unaffected stare back, waiting patiently for news.

A few minutes later, Longbottom came back down the stairs. "She's up there, but…" The guy faltered, obviously not wanting to tell what he had discovered.

A rising tide of irritation swelled in Draco's chest. The Gryffindor's continued stalling was getting tiresome. However, he also recognized the need to properly shift aside those feelings, to remain calm, and to play up the politeness if he wanted access to his girlfriend. It galled him to no end, but he was Slytherin, and compartmentalizing their personal emotions to find the best manner in which to manipulate a situation was what they did best. It was the reason the members of their House had always made the best Occlumens, his Aunt Bella had bragged.

"But what, Neville?"

By intentionally using the other fellow's first name, and in such an easy-going tone, Draco managed to lull the idiot into a sense of amicable civility. There was a distinct relaxing of the other wizard's shoulders, as if he'd been tense, expecting a sharp rebuke. When none was given, the Gryffindor had lowered his guard, as expected.

"Well, she's crying."

Draco almost lost his cool then and there. What had happened to make his witch cry?

"Where is she, Neville?"

Longbottom seemed scandalized. "But you can't go up there!"

Draco started for the stairs when the other boy grabbed his arm and stopped him. "I'm serious! You can't go into the girl's dorm. It's bespelled to prevent boys from entering."

If he hadn't provided that last pertinent tidbit of information, Draco was sure he would have punched Longbottom in the jaw for daring to touch him. His civility only went so far. However, since he _had_ stopped him for a very good reason, Draco simply extricated himself from Neville's grip in a non-threatening manner. "If men can't go up to the girl's dormitory, then how did you get in to see she was crying?" he asked.

"I asked another girl to go check for me," the Gryffindor goody-good confessed, blushing like a virginal gimp. "She told me that Hermione was in her dorm room crying, but wouldn't tell her why."

Draco considered the problem of the stairs. "What does the spell do to keep you out?"

"From what Seamus and Dean say, if any bloke puts a toe on the first stair, it's enchanted to become a slide that's impossible to climb by men, even with Sticking Charms or magically bespelled boots," Longbottom explained. "If you try to levitate or fly up the staircase, a net catches you and tosses you out, onto your backside."

Draco chuckled. It was the same spell in the Slytherin dorms. Draco had gotten around that easily enough before, even without a password. "Not a problem," he boasted. "Any other spells I should know about?"

Neville shook his head. "Not that I know of, but, how are you going to-?"

Draco waved a hand over his shoulder at Neville and headed for the main dormitory stairs. "Thanks for everything, Longbottom. I appreciate your assistance." He left the other boy gaping after him and climbed to the landing where the dorms separated. A couple of young girls, one dressed in Gryffindor colours, the other in Hufflepuff yellow and black, were just then walking up the stairwell on the right-hand side. He quickly followed them.

After much experimentation over the years, Draco had figured out that the enchanted stairs in Slytherin wouldn't change into a slide if two or more girls were on them as the same time as a boy. It was a flaw in the spell crafter's thinking to believe that only a _single_ boy and a _single_ girl would be looking to do the horizontal sweat swim together. Clearly, that individual hadn't considered the fun to be had in 'double-penetration' or orgies when they'd invented their deterrent strategy.

Fortunately, that inaccuracy appeared to have been carried over to the Gryffindor girl's dormitory stairs as well.

Draco made it to the top of the stairs with a, "Thanks!" to the girls who'd unsuspectingly led the way for his admittance. They both looked at him in shock, unsure if they should say anything reproachful to an upper classman or not. He decided to deflect any denunciation using his best asset: deception.

He casually leaned an arm against the wall, blocking their way past, and affected a seductive, flirtatious manner. "Would one of you lovely ladies happen to know where Hermione Granger's room is?" he asked, giving them both his most charming, well-practiced smile.

The girl in Gryffindor red and gold – a third year, he was guessing – blushed and pointed to the fifth door on the left. "She's available for tutoring every night of the week, except Wednesdays when she's doing Prefect rounds," she stammered, too young and naïve to realize the double-entendre in her words.

Chuckling, Draco stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles, playing up the coquetry to assure she wouldn't squeal on him being where he oughtn't. "Thank you, sweet," he purred. With a wink to the other girl, so she wouldn't feel left out, he turned and made his way to Hermione's door. Behind him, he heard them giggling and heading off down the corridor in the opposite direction, and knew that the secret of his forbidden access to the women's dorms was safe.

He knocked once, twice upon the indicated door. There was no response.

"Granger, I'm coming in."

He shoved open the door and entered. There were four beds sharing the rounded room. Surrounding each bed were the personal effects of the girls who resided there – their trunks, built-in shelving for their books and pictures, dressers, etc. In the direct center of the room was a small furnace that magically heated the room on cold winter nights. Immediately he knew where Hermione was hiding out, as her bed had its covers drawn.

Shutting the door behind him and locking it with a powerful charm that was sure to repel her roommates, and adding a layer of Silencing and Anti-Eavesdropping privacy spells that he'd been taught by Bellatrix this past summer – spells meant to aid him in his covert activities this year - he felt they would be reasonable safe now to discuss whatever they wished here.

He made his way over to the curtained bed and cautiously pulled back the fabric. Hermione lay atop the covers, fully clothed in her standard school uniform and lying on her back. Her face was turned to the side, and the skin was dark pink and streaked with tears. Lying limp on her pillow by her head, she was gripping the red ribbon he'd gifted to her, staring at its shimmering fire as if mesmerized. Draco gently sat at her side and stroked her arm to capture her attention. She didn't acknowledge his presence at all.

"Hermione," he spoke softly, trying to draw her out. He brushed some curls back from her shoulder, and ran his fingers across her cheek, cupping it. "Tell me what's wrong."

As if snapping out of a trance, she blinked and trained her eyes on him. "Draco?" Dropping the ribbon onto her pillow, her arms stretched out for him as a sob escaped her lips. "Draco, how…?" She didn't finish the thought, a fresh bout of tears overpowering her, stealing away her ability to speak.

He pulled his witch upright to cradle her within his embrace, holding tightly to her. What could have happened to put her into this kind of state? They'd been having a great time all day together – first at breakfast, then in Potions, and afterwards in the stairwell… Christ, he was hard just thinking about that again! Lunch had been actually enjoyable despite the continued whispers and stares, and D.A.D.A. class had been mostly fine, too, aside from Snape's tricks. So what could have happened between then and now to upset her this much?

Pressing a small kiss to her temple, he quickly calmed her with the type of gentle crooning that his mother had occasionally done for him when he'd been a young boy. "Tell me," he tenderly coaxed. "What's hurt you this time?"

It took her a bit to get even one word out, as she was hiccupping at the same time as crying. "Harry-"

Draco felt a sudden rush of furious anger. "What has Potter done to you?" he demanded.

She shook her head. "Not him. It's me," she confessed. "It's what I'm doing to him."

As if her words sucked all the warmth out of his bones, Draco felt suddenly very cold. The bottom fell out of his stomach. An irrational fear that she would tell him some deep, dark secret about her and Potter – something that would destroy him - crept to the forefront of his brain, torturing him. He swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat.

"What are you doing to… him?"

She paused, taking a breath to speak, but the words didn't manifest.

_Just say it_, he thought. _Do it now._

"Harry's furious that I'm with you. He doesn't understand that this is real," she said, shivering against him. "I've had to… Godric, I've lied to him, Draco! I told him I was seeing you only to spy on you." She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "I'm not, I promise you. I'm not using you in that manner. But you know Harry. He won't understand. He'll never believe that you've changed, especially after the run-in the two of you had on the train coming to school this year. I had to tell him something." Her lids lowered in shame. "So, I lied to him."

Draco let out a shuddering breath, feeling the knot in his shoulders loosen up. For a minute, he'd believed she was going to actually tell him that she'd changed her mind about them, and that she'd been having an affair with Potter instead. He knew that thought was terribly unworthy of the love he felt for her, but the truth was that Draco had always secretly been jealous of Hermione's relationship with Harry Potter.

Since that fateful day she'd bumped into him in the corridor at the beginning of term, he'd been watching them closely, and he'd noted the constant, small, comfortable touches the two often shared. It had eaten at him that the two of them were so relaxed and somewhat intimate with each other - _especially_ after the night of her birthday, when she and Draco had kissed for the first time.

Of course, later, when Hermione had confessed her feelings about the Weasel King to him, Draco had been thrown for a complete loop. He'd always assumed that Potter had been the one who would win Granger's affections. When he'd learned that wasn't the case, he'd felt a queer sort of relief. She wasn't as close to Weasley, he knew; the two barely touched and when they talked, quite frequently it ended in a nasty row. Draco didn't consider the ginger-haired prat much of a threat, especially since the guy was such an unbelievable git towards her. Plus, he was as poor as a church mouse, and rather ugly to boot. He had nothing to offer her, really.

Potter on the other hand… The guy might not be Mister Charming, but he wasn't half bad looking. He was also rather clever, had some money to throw about, and most importantly, he was _sensitive_. Girls always dug on guys who were sensitive – a fact which irked Draco to no end.

That's why, just now, when Hermione had mentioned Scarhead's name, Draco had felt those old, suspicious misgivings worm their way back into his mind: Maybe she secretly fancied Potter. Maybe the prat gave her something that Draco could not. Maybe she was sad right now because she regretted choosing him over a do-gooder like Pothead. It troubled him that he could still feel so jealous and filled with doubt, especially after she'd repeatedly told him that she loved him.

_But only when you're having sex, _the dark voice in the back of his head reminded him, snickering.

He squelched the presence again by shoving it hard enough back that it went silent, but his uncertainty rose once more to the surface, unbidden.

The truth was that Draco was worried that this thing between him and Granger was only temporary for her. Worried that soon, the passion would cool between them and then she'd really look at him and realize what a mistake she'd made, and she'd leave him. He knew it would break something in him if that happened, but if he lost her to Harry _wanking_ Potter on top of it, that would be the bitterest poison of all for him to swallow.

Such fears choked him, made him anxious, but with a supreme effort of will, he pushed them aside, focusing on the here and now. Right this moment, Hermione was with _him_. She was _his._

"You didn't think Potter would throw us a party, did you?" he asked. Pulling back so he could look her in the face, he cupped her cheeks, and wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs. "I knew that coming out to everyone was going to be hard. Didn't you?"

She dropped her eyes again, blushing. "Yes, I knew. But knowing something and experiencing it are sometimes entirely two different things."

Draco tilted her head up and kissed her, trying to convey his feelings for her in one of the best ways he knew: with a physical expression. Her lips parted under his assault, and in no time, she was meeting his desire with an equal passion, clinging to him and melting into the heated contact. It felt so good, tasted even better. Kissing Hermione was like flying: terror mixed with euphoria. He could do this for hours with her if she'd let him, tasting every crevice of her mouth until he was intimate with all of it.

She pulled out of the kiss first, settling into a more comforting hug with her cheek pressed to his heart.

"Don't worry about Potter," he encouraged. "He'll come around… eventually."

She sighed. "I'm not so sure. I don't think Harry will ever forgive me if he finds out the truth. He really doesn't like you."

Draco took a deep breath and expelled it in one long rush. He was compelled to know the truth of this matter, no matter how painful… "Do you regret us, Granger? Would you go back and undo it all if you could?"

Adamantly, she shook her head. "I honestly don't know what brought us together, Draco. It seems so strange to me that things have changed so quickly between us, especially given everything in our pasts. Yet, for some reason I can't explain, I know in my heart that this feels right." Pulling out of his embrace, she reached up and placed her cool hands on his cheeks. "That's why I've decided that I want this. I want _you_. I do love you," she unashamedly admitted. "And I want to stay with you always. No matter what it costs me, I don't want to be without you." Her gaze lowered to his lips. "But… do you love me the same way?"

All Draco could think in that moment was that she was so bloody beautiful that he wanted to press her down onto the bed and make love to her, wanted to make her scream her love for him to the rafters for everyone to hear - to let them all know that she was _his_. He touched her cheek with his fingertips instead, staring into her eyes, trying to convey what he felt for her, feeling that this was a turning point in their relationship and he couldn't afford to fuck it up.

To his amazement, the words came easily, flowing from his mouth as if they'd been meant to be spoken – a script written by fate. "I'm yours, Granger," he stated simply, honestly, completely open and vulnerable. "Even if someday you decide you don't want me anymore, I'll still love you." He trailed his hand down over and around her throat, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her closer. "I'll want you with my last breath."

With a choked cry, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms about his neck. He held her tightly to his chest, rubbing his cheek against her hair, inhaling her scent, and tried to ignore the mocking laughter coming from the back of his mind.

The skin under the Dark Mark on his left arm gave a sickening, worm-like wriggle.

_You don't love her. You don't know how._

He pushed at the 'wicked thing' within him again, attempting to herd it into that part of his consciousness that enervated it, but this time it resisted with a measure of strength that was hard to break. It even sniggered at his failed efforts.

Son of a bitch, it was getting harder to control, wasn't it? He was losing it, slowly but surely, and that other side of him knew it. He could actually feel its anticipation for when he slipped up. When the moment came when he would no longer be strong enough to fight back, he knew it would pounce with everything it had to break free.

Of course, it didn't help his chances that he was being mentally ambushed on all sides, day and night. Caught between Snape's little Legilimency games, his rioting and overwhelming feelings for Granger, and the need to heavily shield during those times the Dark Lord slid through his thoughts, Draco could feel his psyche's defenses being steadily chipped away.

Fuckity-fuck! It was inevitable, wasn't it? Eventually, that evil part of his personality would take him, as his mother had warned. Eventually, he'd be worn down and he'd cave. He'd lose himself then, sublimated by his darker half… and he'd become a true monster.

Macabre though it was, he couldn't help but consider what he'd transform into. Most likely he'd be like his father, who acted in public the part of the cultured and sophisticated Muggle, Doctor Jekyll, but whose vicious alter-ego, Mister Hyde, always lurked in the background, waiting for a private moment to appear. There was also a chance that he'd mimic his Aunt Bellatrix, who had fully embraced her madness. The woman enjoyed her sadism with a side of blood. Or perhaps he'd turn out like Pettigrew, a cowardly, sniveling man who took out his self-hatred on those weaker than he. Sod all, maybe he'd be worse than all of them combined.

That thought absolutely terrified him.

He hugged Granger a little tighter to him, taking comfort from her heat and her scent, and from the press of her body and the soft exhalations of her breath. In her, he found an anchor for his sanity.

_So trusting… Take her now, while she's vulnerable! _

To shut the voice up, Draco called up Muggle song lyrics in his head, hoping to drown out the sinister voice and its growing compulsions. It didn't work, however. That part of his personality resisted his attempts to be shut down by shouting over his internal singing.

_Rip her clothes from her! Fuck her hard until she cries,_ it screamed.

_Fuck off, _he mentally shouted in return, shoving with anger against the evil will. He actually managed to move it, his fury at its desire to cause harm to Hermione giving him strength. _Go back to wherever the hell you came from, demon._

_I came from you,_ it mocked, snarling as it was pushed away an inch at a time._ I'm the you that likes hurting her. So, go on – hurt her! Make her beg for you to stop._

_No, _Draco denied, defying the compulsion to wrap his fingers around her throat and give a menacing squeeze. A cold sweat broke out all over his body. _You don't control me, you cock-sucking bastard! I won't harm her, not for you or anyone else!_

The darker personality inside sneered and snapped at him as with a powerful psychic push, he thrust it back into the blackest corner of his brain. His need to protect Granger gave him the courage and might he needed to enslave it once more. He secured it in place with mental chains, using every technique he'd been taught by his Aunt Bellatrix to keep unwanted presences contained from the more sensitive and important parts of his mind. It fought, of course, but Draco's will overpowered it… for now.

_You can't keep her from me forever! She's mine_, the presence screamed._ I will have her… and I will break her! I'll break you both!_

As Draco slammed shut the prison of his innermost cognizance, cutting off the raving madness of his more malevolent half, he let out a relieved breath. The manifestation of his soul's darker side was silenced for now.

Thankfully, Hermione hadn't noticed any of his internal struggles. She continued to lie in his arms, believing herself safe and protected.

If only he could keep up that lie. All he needed was a bit more time - just long enough for his mother to figure out a way to prevent the Dark Mark's continued influence on him. If he could shut down Voldemort's evil leeching through it, there might be a chance to keep control.

Even as he thought it, he heard mocking laughter ring out through his mind once more.

**X~~~~~X**

They spent a little time after that snogging out.

Laying Hermione back into her pillow, Draco kissed her with heat and hunger, needing to lose himself in the sex and to her. He let his hands wander, even as his tongue pumped in and out of her mouth, sampling, taking and giving. He slid his palm up the inside of her thighs, and snuck under the band of her knickers, dipping his fingers into her damp curls. He groaned in approval to find her ready for him.

While tickling through her sensitive folds and teasing the tiny bit of flesh at the top of her seam, he whispered naughty memories in her ear. "Do you know how soft you are here?" he purred, feeling his cock harden to steel in his pants. "Your pussy's like pure silk. I've never felt anything so good in my whole life, the way it grips my dick and holds me inside you." He caressed circles around her clit, and Hermione arched her back and gave a sharp, needy cry, digging her nails into his shoulders.

Her abrupt movement caused the previously discarded ribbon on her pillow to be jostled, and from the corner of his eye, he caught it slip down the incline that her cushioned head had created. The moment the satiny, Aes Sidhe-woven material touched her skin, falling into the curve she'd created, three things happened simultaneously that he couldn't help but notice. First, a red, fiery halo erupted around them both – a residual magic of some kind from the Kirin's essence, he assumed, as the ribbon had been woven from the hair of its mane. Second, the darkness within him went completely silent and still. Draco could sense its confusion, its fear, and it frustration. Finally, a unique combination of lust and love, a hot and desperate need that clawed away at his rationality – the same feeling he always experienced whenever he touched Granger in this manner - clenched his guts and rolled over his senses.

An uncontained rumble of pleasure was drawn from his mouth. It came out as a sensual growl, breathed against the pulse of her throat. "Want you," he murmured, rubbing his aching, taut length against her thigh. "Only you, Granger."

Gods, he wanted to be inside her again! How was that possible, as he'd only had her a few hours ago? He usually didn't feel the need to fuck again so soon after having come inside a girl, and yet with her… Shite, he broke all the rules when it came to Hermione, didn't he? It had been no different this past Saturday, too. That afternoon, he'd wanted to shag her into the couch springs over and over again, and then into the mattress of the bed. The only thing that had held him back had been his concerns about hurting her. He'd screwed up their first time together, so he'd been extra careful to assure her pleasure when he'd been given another chance this past weekend.

And yet, despite all his good intentions and solid restraint, he'd felt the darkness within him creep forward that last time…

Despite the fact the monster inside seemed loathe to come forward just then, Draco was still feeling too fragile where it was concerned. It had rung him hard today, and he didn't want to risk it breaking free now that he had it contained. He'd just make this time about her; he could wait for tonight for them to be together like that. Then he could take his time and have her as he wanted.

Thrusting two fingers up and into her, he fucked her with his hand instead. Hermione gasped as he spread his fingers wide while deep within her, opening her up, and then moaned with pleasure as he withdrew. Her juices flowed freely from between her legs as he pumped in and out to a steady rhythm, curling the tips at the end to caress that extra-sensitive bit of skin on the upper inside of her channel. The scent of her sex - a feminine, musky perfume – saturated the air, making his mouth water.

"Christ, Hermione, you're soaking wet!"

She uttered a low, rasping moan that had his abdomen tightening up. "Draco, I need… Oh, I need _you_," she whimpered as he set a rhythm designed to drive her over the edge quickly. Her lips pressed to his cheek. "I need you… inside. Please, _please_," she begged in a whisper, her hips rolling to meet his plunging fingers.

"I want you to come like this for me, Hermione," he countered, gliding his lips over hers, pressing kisses in between her gasps. "Just tell me you love me, and let go."

She shook from head to toe, tensing up every muscle as she reached for her bliss. Her grip on his arms tightened, her little mewling cries in his ear grew more and more desperate, and her heavily panting breath exploded across his temple. "I love you!" she keened, quaking. "Oh, God, _Draco!_" Her orgasm crashed into her a second later, causing her whole body to curl up into him and to constrict around him.

Draco stilled his hand inside her soft, wet, warm pussy, feeling the way her channel milked his fingers, wishing it were his cock buried hilt-deep in her just then. _Later,_ he again reminded himself. Tonight, they were going to fuck all over the Prefect's bathroom, and he was going to fill her with his come. Until then, he'd relish the burn in his bollocks, anticipating the night waiting ahead for them both.

Withdrawing his sticky hand from between her legs, he licked her essence off each digit, savoring her heady flavour. Watching him through a slumberous gaze, Hermione smiled up at him with complete contentment. Her body lay limp and satiated under his, fully open, and there was no denying the love that shone for him in her dark chestnut-gold eyes.

_So trusting…_

**X~~~~~X**

After reluctantly agreeing that they had to get up soon, just in case Hermione's roommates showed up and started pounding away on the door, Draco extricated his limbs from about his Gryffindor lover and sat up. He got to his feet beside the bed, helped her to hers, and then grabbed his wand from his satchel on the floor and used it to cast a _Scourgify_ over both of them. In thanks, Hermione gave him a quick, chaste kiss, and then held the ribbon out for him to take.

"Can you tie it back in my hair, please?" she asked.

"Sure," he easily conceded, and reached for the special hair adornment. As his fingers brushed against it, excruciating pain flared up and down his left arm. He clamped his hand over it, exhaling a sharp hiss, and dropped the ribbon. It fluttered to the floor in a red, satiny heap.

Hermione reached for him, concerned, but Draco backed away. "No, don't touch me!" he shouted between clenched teeth, his tone harsher than he'd intended. The pain was like ice along his veins all the way to his shoulder, and it stung like dozens of cold needles plunging into his nerve endings all at once.

Wide-eyed and weary, his witch slowly backed away from him, leaving the ribbon where it lay on the floor between them. There was real fear in the set of her expression and reflected in her eyes.

Draco flushed with a familiar sense of shame and dropped his gaze to the floor. Bloody hell, he'd frightened her again, just as he had that afternoon he'd taken her virginity! He hadn't meant to – not then, and certainly not now. Why was it whenever they caught a break and actually shared an enjoyable moment, something like _this_ would creep up behind them unexpectedly and take them unawares? Every single time it happened, it put them back to square one, and trust would be lost. Hell, but he was getting tired of it! Couldn't the universe just stop fucking with them already?

He flexed his left hand and cranked the adjoining shoulder in a circular motion, working out the pain. When his arm relaxed and felt normal again, only then did he have the courage to glance up at Granger. She had her back turned to him, and was leaning her forehead and a supporting hand against one of her tall bed posts. She looked… small.

His ribs caved in, as all the air left his lungs. The distance between them suddenly became not just one of inches and feet, but of hearts slowly separating.

A desperate need to touch her – to reestablish their connection - overtook him, and he was moving before he could even check the motion. He approached her with careful step, and gently reached his arms around her waist, pressing his whole body into her curves. They were a good fit, the sharper angles of their forms fitting together like lock and key, her height just perfect for his chin to rest upon her head. He was vigilant to cradle his left forearm against his right so it didn't contact her in any form, for even with the layers of clothes between them, he didn't want the Dark Mark's taint to touch and ruin her.

Hermione remained silent, unresponsive to his touch.

_She fears you now_, the dark presence in his head maliciously taunted, fighting against the mental shackles that held it down. _And soon, she'll hate you, too._ It laughed in triumph, and Draco could feel its attention shift to her through his eyes._ That's right, my Princess… right where I want you. _

Draco squeezed his eyes shut to cut off his hated half's view, agonized by the words it had used to torment him. He'd already lost Granger once, when she'd cast that stupid Memory Charm on herself. He'd spent a month and a half tearing his hair out over that, trying to figure out why she would deny him. He couldn't lose her again, not when he'd just gotten her back, not when he'd finally won her return affections. Not when she was his major reason for wanting to escape the darkness that surrounded him. "Please don't leave me," he whispered into her ear, hating that he was too selfish to let her go, as his mother had pleaded with him to do. Instead, like a weak fool, he begged her for the exact opposite. "Don't go, Hermione. I love you. Gods, please stay with me. I _need_ you."

He honestly thought she'd bolt by the way her whole body tensed at his words, but once again, her capacity for compassion and forgiveness undid him.

Relaxing against him, leaning the back of her head against his shoulder, Hermione sighed. "I won't leave you, Draco. I can't. Not anymore." She turned her head and looked up at him. "I meant it when I said I loved you. I'm yours, just as much as you're mine." Her hand reached around her waist, and her fingers entwined with his where they rested. "That's why, no matter what it costs me, I'll find a way to be with you."

Draco's heart clenched, knowing what the eventual price may be for her if she stayed with him. Still, he couldn't let her go. Something inside him wouldn't let him. It felt as if… well, as if their being together was fated. As if she was the only thing standing between him and the Abyss.

Finding a way to end the influence of his Dark Mark now became a priority. He'd write his mother about it after dinner, using code in his letter that only she would understand to urge her to step-up whatever research she'd already undertaken on his behalf. Somehow, he vowed, he _would _find a way to leave Voldemort's service, and in doing so, he _would_ permanently shut up that reviled side of himself, destroying its influence over him and its threats of violence towards Hermione. Failure, in this case, was not an option… not if he wanted to keep Hermione alive past their sixth year.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter: **

_**"Cold (Sorry For The Way I Am)"**__**/i**_** by Crossfade** **(Draco's thoughts about Hermione)**

_**"Maybe I'm Just Tired (Short Version)"**_** by As Tall As Lions** **(Draco's thoughts about Hermione)**


	29. Ch 29: Beyond Reason, Beyond Sanity

**Chapter Twenty-nine: Beyond Reason, Beyond Sanity**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland_**

**_November 18, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)_**

Close to seven o'clock, Draco entered the Great Hall with Hermione for a late supper. They didn't touch, but they did walk side by side over to the end of Gryffindor's table and sat next to each other, away from everyone else. He sensed that she was too fragile at the moment to hold her hand in public, much less push her into sitting at his House's table with him - especially with Potter in attendance - so he didn't bother to ask on either count.

Again, the entire room seemed to have their eyes glued on them. He heard whispers of his and her name buzz around the room, and when he looked up, he saw more than a few people turn away, as if they were embarrassed to be caught staring. _Let them look_, he thought. He wanted the whole school to know that Hermione Granger was with him. He didn't care how that might draw attention to him and his tasks, as Snape had warned. It wouldn't make a spit difference in the end anyway if word got out to his Master what he was about, and at least he could have this - for a little while, anyway.

As they ate, he tried to engage Hermione in conversation, but their words didn't flow as easily as he'd have liked. He was still too shook up over what had happened earlier in her bedroom with the ribbon. Her responses were equally as hesitant, so he knew she was thinking the same thing.

As he stared at her over the rim of his glass and sipped his pumpkin juice, he could take the awkwardness no longer. He wanted things to go back to the way they had been over the last few days. He wanted her warm smile, and the tense strain around her eyes to go away. Bending his head to her ear, he whispered, "I still want to see you tonight, like we planned. Say you'll meet with me."

She paused with her tea cup raised to her lips, and nodded once in acceptance.

The tight knot in Draco's chest relaxed a bit and he was able to breathe easy again. Tonight, he vowed, he'd make everything up to her. He'd show her with his body what he had been unable to convey with his voice.

Reaching under the table, he put his hand on her thigh. She didn't jump or try to move it, so he simply left it there throughout the rest of the meal. When they finished, they both got up at the same time and left together. This time, he grabbed hold of her hand and entwined their fingers. She didn't resist.

He walked his girlfriend up to Gryffindor Tower, but before Hermione could disappear through the portrait opening, he pulled her around the corner from the entrance and kissed her passionately. "Ten o'clock," he reminded her, feeling the anticipation quicken his heart rate.

"I'll be there," she promised around reckless pulls of lips and wild thrusts of tongues.

Draco could have stayed there forever, lost in her kiss and her touch, feeling her heated body melding into his. It was with great reluctance that he let her slip from his arms. He watched her retreat through the entrance to her common room, feeling disappointment at the temporary loss of her.

**X~~~~~X**

At precisely ten o'clock, Hermione snuck into the Prefect's Bathroom on the fifth floor. Draco was waiting for her, hiding in the shadows and watching her duck inside, checking twice down the hallway to assure she hadn't been seen, and then closing the door as quietly as possible behind her.

Having earlier _Silenced_ the room with a quickly cast spell so that outsiders wouldn't be able to hear a thing inside, he now raised his wand and whispered a double Locking Charm to make sure anyone thinking to enter would be barred.

Quickly, he put his wand down on the bench nearby with his other things and hurried over to her. She was just turning when he stepped into her frame, pinning her against the door with a shove of his hips against her backside and the weight of his chest against her back. She yelped in surprise, but upon noting him, let out a sigh of relief.

"You nearly scared me into the grave," she admitted around a quiet laugh.

"Well, well," he teased, capturing one of her hands in a firm grip, while he stroked over her ear with the other hand, "it would seem that I've caught a wayward student – a Prefect, no less - out of bed after lights out. What could she possibly be doing out of her common room at this time of night?" He leaned in, letting his lips brush across her sensitive lobe. "Are you, perchance, meeting up for some naked time with a boy, Miss Granger?" he asked in a sultry whisper.

She shivered against him as the warmth from his breath whispered across her flesh.

His tongue lashed out and he sampled the flavour of her skin with a quick lick. "Whatever shall we do to punish such a transgression, hmm?"

Her throat convulsed on a nervous swallow and he couldn't help it but laugh, knowing he was getting to her with such little effort.

She shushed him with a worried, "They'll hear!" in warning.

"Relax, Hermione. I've already bespelled the whole bloody room," he reassured her, nipping at her throat. "No one's going to be able to hear or see us, and no one's coming through that door without blowing it from its hinges."

Releasing a relieved breath, she chuckled. "You do think of everything, don't you?" She nudged for him to let her go, and he did, stepping back. Moving past him, she put her things down on the bench next to his. "I'd love to know how you know such spells, though," she said, rifling through the bag she'd brought with her. "Do you often practice them for secret rendezvous with girls?"

There was nothing he could say to that which wouldn't incriminate him. Besides, Hermione knew he'd been no innocent angel when they'd hooked up, and he hadn't exactly tried to hide his reputation from her, either. He wasn't particularly proud of the fact that he'd recklessly chased his share of skirts over the last two years, but it wasn't like he could go back and change the past now. Moreover, his girlfriend was getting the benefit of all that experience – everything from sexual technique to something as seemingly insignificant as his knowledge of how tile magnified sound. He knew she'd be very pleased to find out later tonight that her loud moans and keening cries had been magically nullified by the charms he'd cast on the room.

Speaking of which, time was ticking by and neither of them were naked yet. He'd have to rectify that problem immediately.

Walking over to her, he reached out to draw her into her arms… but stopped on a Knut when he noted the fiery ribbon glinting through her curls. She'd braided a thick strand of hair at the side of her head and woven the magical material through it.

Shite, but his gift to her would have to go or else he couldn't touch her. He didn't want a repeat of this afternoon ruining their evening together.

"Take the ribbon out," he instructed.

Hermione's distress was evident when she turned to face him, her fingers going to the decoration in her hair and stroking it.

"Please," he requested, hoping to ease the sting with a gentler tone.

With a quiet acceptance, she began unwinding the braid and removing the ribbon from her hair. She then tucked it into her bag. Only when it was out of sight did Draco dare to touch her. "I'm sorry," he apologized, stroking her cheek. "I don't want anything to ruin this for us."

She nodded in understanding. "Me, either. Although I don't understand why-"

"Can we discuss it tomorrow?" he interrupted, not wanting to be reminded of the hurtful feelings he'd had this afternoon. Right now, all he wanted was this moment with her. Everything else could be damned until the morning.

Hermione reached up and caressed the frown he hadn't realized had crossed his face. "Of course. I don't want to hurt you again," she stated.

Was she really blaming herself for what had happened earlier? Draco felt several shades of guilt come upon him, knowing better. Hermione hadn't done a bloody thing to make his arm flare up as it had; it had been the fault of the evil lurking inside. For whatever reason, the monster within didn't like the ribbon he'd given her.

He wanted to tell Hermione this, of course, but was afraid of her rejection. She'd be repulsed if she knew that there was a demon that sometimes gazed at her through his eyes, and that it wanted nothing more than to destroy her mind, body, and soul. How could he explain that the influence of the darkness inside him had been partially responsible for taking her virginity in such a violent manner? Or that it struggled with him for his very sanity? She'd never trust him again if he told her such things.

But he _could_ ease her guilt – at least, a little bit.

"It wasn't your fault. It was _his_."

At first, she didn't seem to catch on, but when he twisted his left wrist, revealing the inner forearm to her, her eyes grew wide with understanding. Draco was referring, of course, to the animalistic part of himself, but he knew she wrongly believed him referring to Lord Voldemort. He wouldn't correct her mistake, as perhaps believing the false trail would make her a bit more cautious about touching the Dark Mark in the future.

He cupped her cheek. "Let's not talk about it anymore tonight."

He'd made sure to chew a piece of that lingering strawberry gum before coming in tonight, knowing what the effect on her would be. As predicted, she closed her eyes and leaned towards his lips, inhaling the scent on his breath, and sighed with longing.

Pressing a series of slow, provocative kisses to her small, pink mouth, he murmured, "Do you have any idea how much I want you?" His voice dropped into a low, honeyed croon.

Her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. "Tell me," she bid.

He could feel a wicked smirk work its way up his cheek at her challenge. "I'll do better than that," he asserted. Reaching out, he captured both of her wrists in his and dragged them up her body, pinning them above her head. "Don't move."

He began by unclasping her robes, letting the heavy woollen material fall to the ground. Next he drew her jumper up and over her head, tossing it to the ground as well. She wasn't wearing a tie, thankfully, so there was no need to fumble with a knot. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he unbuttoned her shirt with slow deliberation, though, parting the fabric and letting his fingers graze across her exposed skin. He traced the swell of her cleavage, and dipped between to draw a line down her sternum. When he reached her smooth abdomen, he lightly circled her bellybutton. Her fingers curled, her nails scratching against the tile above her head as she gasped at each playful stroke across her heated flesh.

Reaching behind her, he undid the hook fasten of her white cotton bra, allowing her to drop her arms to divest both it and the shirt from her person.

"They can stay down," he indicated her arms with a light touch, "but keep them at your sides. I won't have any control if you touch me."

Her warm, chocolate-coloured eyes glittered with awakening desire, calling to him. "I _really_ want to touch you though."

Draco gave a slow shake of his head. "Not yet. Soon."

Skimming around her hips, he unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt. With a slight tug, it fell to pool at her feet. Kneeling before her, he pulled each foot up gently, removing her shoes and socks, laying them to the side. A quick glance showed him she was wearing delicate, pink knickers made of soft, very thin cotton. Her dark curls were shielded by the fabric, but only just; he could see them pressing against the small, front triangle.

"Did you wear these for me?" he asked, tracing the edges.

"Yes. Do you… like them?"

He glanced up at her through the fringe of his lashes and gently rubbed through the seam of her pussy through her panties. "What do you think?"

Her breath caught, her hips gave a small roll, and her eyes flared with heat. "I think I should transfigure all my intimates the second I get back to my room tonight."

Draco gave her a naughty smirk, continuing to caress between the juncture of her thighs. "I think you should, too. I'd love to see you in satin and lace, or in the sheerest silk." He leaned forward and replaced his fingers with his lips, and let his tongue trace the seam through the fabric. A hint of her scent and essence came through the cloth. "Make sure at least half of them are green."

"Slytherin green, you mean. What about Gryffindor red? Oh, _oh!_" she gave a small cry of pleasure as he pressed harder into her, saturating the front of her knickers with his saliva. "Green it is."

Catching the edges of the delicate panties with his fingers, he began drawing them down her legs. When her sweet core was revealed, he teased the sensitive lips with flicks of his tongue.

"Draco." She panted his name now, her fingernails raking through his hair to press him deeper into her in a silent demand.

He kissed the top of her curls and parted her thighs. "Shhh, baby," he whispered as he licked very lightly over her clit. "Don't worry. We'll get to it."

It took tremendous discipline to pull his mouth from her sex. He'd fantasized about touching every inch of her naked body since the morning after her birthday, when he'd secretly stood outside this exact room and listened to her taking a bath. Rushing this wasn't in the cards as far as he was concerned.

He trailed his fingers over the backs of her thighs, behind her knees, down her calves, and over her petite ankles and toes. "You have seriously sexy legs, Granger." Letting his gaze and his hands roam, he took her all in. "I loved the feel of these wrapping around my waist… holding tight." As he tickled over her knees, he leisurely stroked upwards, coming again to the crease of her inner thigh. "You drive me insane with want. I've never felt this way for anyone. I think I'm obsessed."

"You think?" she teased, and he looked up into her playful smile.

"A bit," he admitted, slipping through her wet part and stroking up and down. "Aren't you?"

Her eyelids fluttered and she exhaled a fast, sharp huff of pleasure. Her fingernails scratched against the tile again. "Yes." Her breasts heaved as his caresses became more insistent, and as he flicked the tiny bundle of flesh at the top. "Oh!"

The touch was meant to enflame, but not to bring relief. That would come. For now, he couldn't get enough of stroking across her heated flesh, and watching the changes he brought. Learning about a girl in this way was a new thing for him, and he found he was utterly fascinated by it.

At her waist, he trailed upwards, stretching his arms as he outlined the bottom of her breasts, cupped them, and then smoothed over each areola. Hermione's body went instantly taut, and ripe for sex; the scent of her moistening centre was heady in his nose as he leaned forward. Her moans grew louder as he circled her nipples, and brushed them with delicate pressure.

"You're so sensitive here," he murmured, lightly pinching them. His lover cried out and her thighs clenched together. "I wonder if I could make you come just like this."

Hermione's expression was pleading. "Stop teasing, please!"

He blew a cool trail of air over the curls that were beginning to saturate with her juices, even as he pinched her nips again, pulling them very slightly out from her body at the same time. "Want me beyond reason yet?"

Fervently, she nodded. "Beyond sanity."

Rising to his feet, he let her breasts go, finishing his exploration of her body by tracing over her collarbones, up the side of her neck, to brush wayward curls back behind her ears. She closed her eyes as he stroked her jaw, smoothed over her cheeks and forehead, and finished by circling her lips. God, she was really quite pretty, wasn't she? He loved the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the arch of her eyebrows. Her lashes were the ideal frame to her dark, expressive eyes. And her mouth… fuck, but her lips were a perfect shape, with a tiny indented bow at the top that begged for kissing.

And she'd given herself only to him. No one else had ever touched her like this. She'd never trusted anyone this much.

His chest clenched with the surge of emotion that passed through him.

_Ruin her, _the 'other' inside commanded him._ Make her cry and scream! _

Draco shut his eyes and bit back on the need to do violence. _No, never again_, he swore.

_You will. We will_, the darkness within promised, laughing.

With a vicious mental shove, he pushed the evil back.

"Draco?"

Surprised at the concern in Hermione's voice, Draco lost his concentration for a moment and focused on her. His girlfriend's expression was wary.

"Are you… feeling badly?"

Choking down his panic that she'd noticed something not right, he turned the situation around with an easy smile. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

_Liar, liar._

He grit his back teeth and silently spit a venomous, _"shut it,"_ at the monster in his head. For good measure, he locked down his defences again, taking sadistic pleasure in its snarling promises of retribution as it was effectively shut out once more.

Wanting to put her at ease and to return them to the enjoyable moment before their ill-timed interruption, Draco stepped into her, pressing their bodies together. "Tell me: do you want me to concentrate my efforts here?" He teased her nipples with a quick pinch to both. "Or, here?" he asked, moving his hand down to finger the curls between her legs.

"Both," she gasped, her apprehension set aside in the face of his renewed seduction.

He gave her a rakish smile. "Greedy girl."

"Comes with being an only child," she playfully admitted. A moment later, she gave an adorable growl. "Now stop tormenting me and get to it!"

Draco chuckled at her commanding ways, and bent his mouth to her left breast, while at the same time he dipped two fingers into the slit between her legs. Hermione moaned, arching her spine and thrusting her chest out in a silent demand for him to devour her. He suckled her nipple, using his teeth to gently tease it. Her legs widened, and her hips rolled as he surged with a steady, driving rhythm into her at the same time.

"Oh… Draco!" she whined, her fingers flexing with the need to grab onto him. "Let me touch you!"

He pulled away from her breast and kissed along the bottom of her jaw instead. "Not yet," he teased, aiming for her mouth. His petulant lover turned her face away, intending on denying him since he'd denied her. He snickered, withdrawing his fingers from the depths of her cunt to rub their stickiness across her lips. "I haven't had a chance to kiss your pussy yet. You _do_ still want that, right?"

She shuddered with longing, and nodded. "Yes, please!"

Sinking to his knees before her once more, Draco wasted no time in giving her what she wanted. His tongue parted her plump, moist slit, licking from the bottom of her sex all the way up until the tip touched her sensitive clit. Stopping and pulling back a bit, he glanced up at her through the fringe of his lashes, catching the way her skin dusked with vibrant desire in the glow of the candlelight, noting the eager parting of her lips as he licked his lips. Her dark eyes glowed with need.

"More," she pleaded.

Leaning back in, he traced a circle around the tiny, swollen bud, before latching on and suckling very gently. Hermione whimpered. Her hands reached out, slid through his hair, and scraped against his scalp as she urged him on, unable to resist the temptation to touch him any further. She pressed his face deeper into her, and he lapped up the silky heat of her juices spilling between her thighs, dipping his tongue inside of her opening.

Sweet Circe, but he hungered for her. The scent of her lust filled him, sorely testing the limits of his control. He stroked over her clit again, drew it between his lips.

Hermione shuddered, gripping him tighter. "So close…" she murmured.

Piercing her tight channel with two fingers, he established a slow in and out rhythm, even as he licked through her curl-shrouded folds with ravenous demand. He kissed her tiny bud, curling his tongue around it and suckling it between his lips like a favourite treat. Above him, Hermione let out a breathless gasp.

"Oh my God, Draco," she cried, her head thumping back against the wall.

Devoted to her pleasure, he flicked and nipped, sucked and laved, and all the while, his hand never stopped its relentless pace, feeling the soft muscles inside her contract around his fingers. "Come for me," he bade, delving once more through the juice-laden centre of her sex. "Come, Hermione. Come hard."

She whimpered again, her hips gyrating now in time to his measured thrusts. She grew tighter around him, and the feeling had him imagining his cock inside her, being held with such strength. Gods, he wanted to drown in her flavour, to make her burn with desire only for him, to own her as no one ever would again.

_Mine,_ he and the darker half within him vowed at the same time, just as she arched in release.

Rolling, milking pulls grabbed his fingers and held him in place deep within her, as her whole body quaked, and she called out his name. A rush of liquid heat covered his hand, and as he withdrew from the grips of her pulsing quim, he dipped his lips to capture as much as he could, drinking her down, relishing the taste.

Nothing in this world tasted as good to him as this.

When her knees gave out, he quickly grabbed her hips to keep her steady, and regained his height, holding her against him. He wiped her moisture from his cheeks and chin with the back of a hand, and licked the salty-sweet goodness from his lips.

God, he loved doing that to her.

Hermione melted into him, her whole body going loose, trusting him to keep her safe in this vulnerable moment.

The thought had that 'other' inside of him clawing to get free. Draco closed his eyes, held his girl to him, and concentrated on her heartbeat, noting it begin to slow down and match the cadence of his.

When she could stand once more on her own, he felt it was time to move them into the shower to begin round two of the fantasy, feeling much calmer and more in control, too. He shoved the evil within back into a corner of his mind and used the tricks learned in his Occlumency lessons to hold it there for the time being. He raged at him, but he ignored its threats.

Stripping off his clothes, he grabbed his shower kit from the bench and took Hermione's hand, leading her into the main shower stall. He turned on the water, made sure it was the right temperature, and then threw himself under the downpour to try to cool down some of his ardour. His manhood was engorged with blood and throbbing with need just then, but the water helped to tame it a bit.

Nice and wet, he moved out of the spray to give his witch a turn, and opened his shower kit to retrieve his favourite French soap. He started lathering himself down with it, when suddenly Hermione grabbed it out of his hand and brought it to her nose.

"Bergamot and amber!" she triumphantly announced. "A-ha! I knew I'd find it eventually!"

"And?" he asked, not getting the reference.

She passed the soap back to him, smiling brightly. "I've been trying to figure out for a while now if the scent came from your laundry soap or cologne, because that fragrance is everywhere around you."

"I've got cologne that's the same," he admitted. They'd come as a gift set.

"Oh, I knew it!" she excitedly rambled on. "Your handkerchief still smells it, so I knew it couldn't just be from the soap alone."

Confused, he asked, "My handkerchief?" When had she gotten one of those?

A flash of insight hit him from out of the blue, and he remembered the night of her birthday: he'd given her his hanky to dry her tears. "You mean you've had it all this time?"

She nodded, practically dancing under the shower spray in happiness. "I've kept it under my pillow or inside my robe pockets every day since then."

It took him a moment to process that information and to find the flaw. "But you lost your memory. How did you know it belonged to me?"

"I didn't," she confessed. "But something inside told me that it was a very important item, so I kept it near me always."

Draco stared at her, feeling his chest tighten again. If he'd understood her correctly, somehow, the overpowering bond they'd first made on her birthday hadn't just affected him. It had been strong enough for a lingering connection on her side as well, despite the gaping holes in her memory. The thought made him strangely optimistic, lightening his heart's darker concerns.

"A very important item, you say?" he wondered aloud. "When did you know it was mine?"

"Well, I deduced the embroidered initials to stand for your name. There aren't too many 'D.M.' characters running around the school - especially not ones I'd been locked up in a room with for several hours. And because I couldn't remember where I'd gotten the hanky from, and I couldn't remember those four days, it only seemed a logical conclusion. That was sometime in October," she admitted, taking the soap back from him and sniffing it again. "But then I knew it was yours definitively on Halloween. Remember when we were up in the Astronomy Tower, and you grabbed me? Well, I smelled the same scent on your collar as on the handkerchief. That couldn't be coincidence."

"And yet you didn't burn it even after you knew for a fact that it was mine," he stated, amazed. "I thought you hated me then."

She paused, considering. "No, actually, I was rather attracted to you, to be honest. Of course, I didn't want _you_ to know that. And then there was still the issue of Ron to resolve…"

He looked down at her, trepidation causing his heart to give a little stutter.

Weasley. Fuck. The guy's shadow lingered over everything he'd achieved with Granger - just like Potter. Yes, she'd told him over and over that she loved him, but in his heart, he knew that there was something between the three of them that he'd never break through - nor be able to fully compete against. That fact chapped his arse.

"And is it resolved?"

Dark, mocking laughter echoed through his head.

_Shut the fuck up,_ he internally snarled at the monster inside.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm here taking a shower with you, aren't I?"

Draco considered that, and then he grinned, his sour mood turned right around. That's right. She was here with him, wasn't she? And she was magnificently naked, too.

_Ha! Up yours, you sick fuck, _he stuck it to the bastard in his head. _She picked me._

As he watched the soap slide between her small fingers, he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to do to her next...

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED..._**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter:**

**_"What's Left Of Me"_**** by Nick Lachey (Draco thinking of Hermione)**


	30. Ch 30: Darkness Ascending

**Chapter Thirty: **_**Darkness Ascending**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**November 18, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione glanced up at Draco, noted the naughty smile on his lips, and felt anticipatory butterflies erupt in her belly.

He took the soap from her hands, lathered his own, put the bar in the tray nearby, then reached out and cupped her breasts. The feel of ticklish soap on her nipples, especially given how sensitive they were at the moment, made things in Hermione's lower body go tight. She felt a rush of warmth between her legs as he rubbed his hands in gentle circles over her.

"Draco…" she sighed, reaching up to grab onto him for support. She threw her head back into the spray and let the water course down her hair as he slipped across her heated skin, his fingernails gently scraping her rosy buds to attention.

He gave her such tender attention during their love-making. It was as if Draco worshipped her. It made her feel so feminine and powerful, so wanted and sexy, so revered. She'd never known love could be like this.

"Hermione, you're so beautiful," he murmured, running his fingers over her nipples and gently rolling them.

The roiling steam from the shower created a misty cloud in the small, enclosed space, surrounding them in tendrils of moisture. Through the nebulous haze, she noticed that the collecting dew gave a pearl-like sheen to his fine, platinum hair, and shadowed his irises so they acquired a darker, smokier cast. Compared against such striking, contrasting features, his skin appeared as pale as winter snow. He looked almost... otherworldly.

"Come here," he bid, dancing his soapy fingers down the sides of her waist to get a firm grip and pull her closer.

As her hip came into contact with the jutting length of his hard arousal, it occurred to her then that he hadn't had a release yet; he'd been too busy taking care of her needs to consider his own.

Perhaps she should fix that glaring error.

Never one to pass on an opportunity to learn something new, Hermione boldly closed the distance between their bodies until they were pressed together good and tight, emboldened to try something she'd been seriously considering since earlier that afternoon. She reached down and gently stroked over the evidence of his desire for her, careful not to apply too much pressure as she was unsure of how much to use. Draco groaned at the caress, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

On tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his ear. "Teach me how to please you," she requested, very lightly squeezing her fingers around him.

Her boyfriend went completely still. They locked gazes, and there was definitely a perceptive darkening of his grey eyes. "All right," he agreed, swiping his tongue over his lips, and took hold of her hand. As he stepped back to lean against the marble-tiled wall, he pulled her into his embrace.

Hermione's heart fluttered with nervousness. She was really going to do _it_, wasn't she? Sure, she'd heard Lavender, Parvati, and Fay giggle about getting on their knees for a boy as they sat around their shared dorm room and swapped rumours and dares and wishes, but she'd always thought the idea of licking a man's penis to be rather perverted. With Draco, however, it wasn't like that at all; the anticipation of what she was about to do was thrilling. There was absolutely no sense of shame or of wrongness about this offer.

She suddenly felt very grown-up and empowered by this decision. She also felt a little naughty, but in a playful way.

Draco lowered his lips to hers, buzzing over her mouth while placing nipping kisses. "You sure you're ready for this?"

"Teach me," she pleaded, afraid he'd try talking her out of it. Now that she'd found the courage to ask, she didn't want to be deterred.

He nodded. Guiding her hand back between his legs, he encouraged her to palm his erection. "Do just like you did a few days ago: wrap your fingers around it - gently," he coaxed, glancing down between them to watch. Hermione did the same, feeling her breath hitch in her chest as she _really_ looked at him. He was fully erect, and his long, straight length made her hand seemed tiny in comparison. Her fingers just barely encircled the width, and the flesh was hot and solid to the touch.

Draco guided her up and down his shaft with slow, complete strokes. "Light touches at first," he instructed her. "Then a little firmer once you reach a rhythm. The head is really sensitive, so tease it if you want. Just be careful not to dig with your fingernails, and not to squeeze too hard." He groaned, breathing heavier as she tried out his instruction, swiping her thumb back and forth across the weeping slit at the tip. "Shite, that feels good."

Hermione was incredibly turned on by watching how her touch inflamed her lover. He grew impossibly hard from her efforts, and his whole body shuddered with each downward stroke under the tight fist of her hand. His crown, engorged and red, leaked with clear, slick pre-come, making the glide of her hand smooth. Panting moans escaped his throat as his hips rocked back and forth in time to the pace she'd set.

Reaching out, he took her other hand and guided it to the heavy weight of his sac. "Cup me and roll me like this." He showed her how to hold him, teaching her the correct pressure and how to move her fingers just so to bring him maximum pleasure.

Leaning forward, Draco pressed his forehead to hers. "Hell, that's hot," he groaned, staring down at her hands all over him. "Like the way it feels?"

She gave a small nod, watching him thrust upwards, straining towards climax. "Yes."

Tilting his head, he let his mouth wander down her throat. "Want your mouth there so bad," he murmured against her ear. "You sure you're ready?"

"Yes," she gasped as he bit very lightly over her pulse.

His hands skimmed up her arms to apply light pressure to her shoulders. "Okay. Down," he directed, "all the way."

Switching her hold to his hips, she went to her knees before him. When she was even with his waist, she let out a shaky breath, staring up close and personal at the object of her fascination. From this angle, he was huge, and she wondered at how to go about taking something that big into her mouth.

Through the fringe of her lashes, she glanced up at Draco, unsure of what to do next. He gave her a small smile encouragement, and petted her cheek.

"Take me in hand and move me towards your mouth," he bid, and she followed his instruction. "Good, now lean in and kiss the tip. Get used to the way it feels and the taste."

Shaking like a leaf, she leaned forward and put her closed lips on him.

"Open your mouth like you were going to kiss me, and use your tongue to lick," he whispered the correction.

Hermione closed her eyes and did as her lover wanted tasting him for the first time. He was rich and sticky, with a hint of salt. The light tang of sweet followed as she pulled back and licked her lips. His flavour was like nothing she'd ever sampled before. Combined with the scent of his natural musk and the bergamot-amber cologne pervading the air, she was captivated and leaned back in for more.

Draco's gasp was loud in the tight space as she engulfed the tip of him with a quick, sucking kiss. "Ah, gods... That was perfect. Now do it again," he instructed.

She opened her mouth wider and engulfed more of him, lightly suckling the slippery, hot flesh before pulling away again.

"Again," he murmured, reaching out to stroke over her hair.

Eagerly, she took him back in her mouth, and this time she didn't pull away quite so soon. Kissing and suckling the head of his erection, she used her tongue to lick around him, trying out some of the ideas she'd had in mind when she'd first conceived of doing this with Draco.

"Fuck!" he rasped, as she scraped her teeth very lightly under the flared hood. "Your mouth is so sweet and hot, but be careful of the teeth." His hips curled forward as she sucked harder on the broad head and he grunted. Her tongue flicked over him again, lapping up the droplets of fluid that beaded from the tiny slit. He thrust forward a bit, the move clearly uncontrollable, and she backed off, surprised by his eagerness. "Bloody hell, Granger, you're bringing me to heel here, and I'm not even all the way in yet!"

She watched him as she continued to lick and suckle upon him like a treat. Draco's face was a mask of dark eagerness, his focus absolute. His abs were tightened with his need, and they rippled as his body responded to her attentions. She liked how much control she had over him in that moment; liked knowing how much he was _hers._

Kissing along the underside of his cock, she worked her way to his testicles, pressing kisses to them as well. He groaned, and his palms slammed against the tile as he jerked and hissed a colourful metaphor in response. Experimenting, she licked around them, wondering just how sensitive they were...

"Christ!" he shouted. "Oh, _hell yes!"_

Inching her way back up his shaft, she laved him like a lolly, tracing the veins with her tongue. His hands reached for her, and his fingers tightened in her hair as she suckled the head again. She kept him right on the edge, learning the shape of him, relishing in his increasingly frustrated groans.

"You're playing with fire," his voice rumbled. "Stop teasing, baby." He caressed her cheek. "Just relax and let me slide in."

She let her jaw go slack, flattening her tongue to the bottom of her mouth, and pushed her head forward over him. He glided over her tongue and into her depths with a long, satisfied sigh.

"So warm and soft," he murmured, shuddering. His gaze was storm-cloud grey, and soft pants escaped between his reddened lips. He must have bitten them, she realized. "As you move back, suck hard."

He guided her, encouraging her to the right pressure as she withdrew, until with a pop, he was out of her mouth and bobbing before her. She licked her lips.

"Like that?" he asked.

She nodded and gripped him, holding him at the perfect angle to take him back into her mouth.

"Then don't stop. Do it again and again."

His long fingers entangled in her hair now, and he pushed her back over his length with minimally applied pressure. One of her hands reached up and gripped his hip as she moved her mouth in and out to a slow tempo, letting him enter her mouth as fully as possible each time. On the upstroke, she licked over him, and then gobbled him back down on every return, savouring his luscious taste.

"Faster, suck harder," he begged, and she glimpsed up to see he had his head throw back and his jaw clenched. He seemed caught somewhere between pleasure and pain.

His chest heaved as her speed and pressure increased. His hips began thrusting to meet her each time she lowered on him, and his fingers tightened their hold on her head, keeping her still. It wasn't long before he was taking her mouth, controlling her rather than the other way around. He surged past her lips to a rapid, yet shallow pace, careful not to choke her, but almost ruthless in his drive to reach his end.

Beneath her ribs, Hermione's heart was pounding. Her excitement seemed linked to Draco's, and yet there lurked on the edge of her rational mind a peculiar wrongness about the situation. Something felt... off... about what was happening between them. It was too wild and getting more and more out of control by the second.

"Fuck, yeah, my princess!" he growled, staring down at her with irises as dark and glossy as hematite. Like the first day of term and the other morning, when she'd woken up to him making love to her, something intense and a touch menacing shuddered behind his eyes. "I'm coming."

Hermione pulled her mouth away, knowing what that meant just from the girl gossip she'd been exposed to over the years, but Draco pressed her hand over his length instead and continued to pump through her fingers, undeterred by her withdrawal. Three more thrusts were all it took, and with a loud grunt, he orgasmed. His hot come shot all over her chest and neck in great spurts.

To say she was shocked by his release was an understatement. Hermione had never seen a man ejaculate before and was spellbound watching the pearly liquid jet out of him to land upon her skin in heated blasts. Streams of his creamy seed dripped down over one breast and fell into her cleavage. His sac seemed to pulse with each release. The sight made her mouth water.

Godric, she'd made him do that. Her touch. Her mouth...

With absolutely no warning whatsoever, Draco suddenly bent and reached for her, securing a grip under her arms. With a mighty pull, he lifted her off the ground until her feet dangled in the air. "Draco!" she cried in alarm, hands flailing to his shoulders in an instinctual need to find purchase.

With a strength she hadn't known he possessed, he held her there for a moment or two, his face a mask of heated lust. "Princess," he growled in triumph, and took three steps forward, slamming her against the opposite wall. The impact of the tile against her back took her breath away. "All mine," he hissed as he stepped in and pinned her in place with his bigger body.

Feeling the drag of her body's weight, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. His still-fully erect length pressed against her wet core. "Wha-?"

He grabbed her hair, pulled her head back and kissed her like he would eat her up. There was no foreplay; he used the wall for leverage, rolled his hips, and entered her in one fierce thrust. Stretched wide again, Hermione moaned, fighting for breath and sanity as he pounded away into her. Draco's tongue pumped in time to his surging hips.

This was a taking - primal and raw in its very need. This was true fucking, at its most unrefined, most hungry and desperate. Even their first time together hadn't been this frenzied and feral.

It shouldn't have made her wet, this turbulent, unrestrained intensity of Draco's driving thrusts, but it did. Hermione's arousal had already been there from their earlier activities, and now... now it was an animal, raging inside her and desperate to be let out. Her body was so slicked with need, so ravenous for him that she began moving her hips of her own accord, meeting him surge for surge. It became a clashing of souls and bodies then, rather than the melding their sex had always been before, but it felt so good that she found that she didn't want to stop.

Draco snarled against her throat, biting down on her neck with some serious pressure. She bit him back and scratched down his shoulders and back with her fingernails, marking him as he was marking her. To her amazement, the violence only spurred him on. He whined in his throat at the sensation, growing impossibly harder inside of her, his hips pistoning at a speed that seemed impossible to maintain without having his heart explode.

She threw her arms around his shoulders with abandon, riding out his savagery, letting it claim her, wailing his name to the ceiling as she neared the precipice, preparing to tumble over into madness.

His breath came in deep gasping sobs, torn from his chest as he reached for his own end. "Christ, I'm sorry! I can't... Just, _tell me_," he pleaded.

Hermione knew what he was asking for, and was beginning to understand that his continual reasons for doing so stemmed from a fear of her leaving him. Draco was afraid of losing her love. The thought left her aching for him, and wondering who in his life had left him so emotionally wanting.

"I love you," she whispered against his ear as he rocked into her with a strength that bordered on pain. "I love you so much, Draco. Never let me go."

He shook his head. "Never," he vowed. "I love you, Hermione."

Manoeuvering his fingers between them, he rubbed her clit in reckless circles and reached for her kiss. Their lips met... and they exploded.

They shared their bliss, moaning and crying out into each others' mouths, tightening up only to let go together. His hips stilled as he came inside her, but he held her bottom tight to him, assuring he was pressed to the hilt within her body. They equally shook all over, from heads to toes, letting the ecstasy roll over their senses before ebbing away. He dragged in a deep, heavy lungful of air as he pressed his sweaty forehead to hers and clenched his eyes shut.

Hermione struggled to secure her rapid breathing and heart's pulse, and to get a handle on the blooming dread that crept along the edges of her intuition. Something not quite right about what they'd just done hovered at the edge of her awareness, but like a riddle that Hermione had no idea how to decipher, its answer remained out of her grasp.

Still leaning all his weight on her, Draco slid to his knees as exhaustion took hold of him. Their bodies still intimately entwined, Hermione was forced down with him. They sat together on the shower's floor, feeling the hot water wash over them, a strained silence wavering between them.

"Tell me again," she requested in a soft whisper, trying to hold herself together as the tension reached a level that was almost unbearable for her to tolerate.

Had she done something wrong to bring about this abrupt distance she suddenly felt between her and her boyfriend. She knew that somewhere in the middle of their love play, as she'd learned how to please him, it seemed as if the old Draco she'd known for years had returned. He'd been a bit too rough and a tad too self-indulgent when taking her mouth. Then, when he'd shagged her, he'd bordered on vicious and cruel in his sexual dominance, and there had been arrogance in his possession of her, too. It seemed a cliché metaphor, but he'd almost seemed to slip into the role of 'Mister Hyde', compared to his 'Doctor Jekyll' of late. Only there at the very end, just before they'd climaxed together, had he seemed to once more become the boy she loved.

Had she done something, though, to bring about that change in him, or was there something else here going on...?

With a resigned sigh, Draco pulled from her embrace, but he made up for the withdrawal by reaching up to stroke over her cheek. "I love you," he said, a twinge of sadness to his tone. His grey eyes - lighter now that his passion had passed - were filled with remorse.

A chill passed over her spine, making Hermione shiver. Draco was so emotionally withdrawn from her right then, and she wasn't sure why or how to fix it.

"Have I done anything wrong?" she asked, trembling.

His face transformed, stricken with horror from her implication. Fiercely, he shook his head in denial. "No, it's not you." He wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest, careful not to press his left forearm against her skin, she noticed. "You were wonderful, baby. It's not you. Don't think that. This wasn't your fault."

Confused, she clung to him for dear life. "I don't understand. It feels like you're pulling away from me. You're right here, but... you're not."

He was silent for so long, tensed up and radiating unhappiness. It took him two tries to speak. "I hurt you again." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. It was also a confession, undeniable and delivered with shame. He pressed his nose against the curve of her throat and began a gentle rocking motion. "Christ, Granger, I hurt you! I'm so sorry!" His voice was laced with regret and rough with tears.

Instinct told her that there was something important that Draco wasn't telling her, and that he was deeply ashamed of his behaviour tonight. Clearly, he needed her forgiveness more than he needed her questions just then, however. She had her suspicions about what had happened here between them, but there would be time to find out if her supposition was correct later. Right now, he needed her reassurance.

She rubbed her cheek against his as he often did to her when she was feeling unsure. "There's nothing to forgive," she murmured, working to keep her tone light and gentle. "I'm not really hurt. I'm fine, see?" She repeated this to him several times in different ways, and although her lover didn't reply, eventually his body's shudders began to ease. "I promise I won't leave you, Draco. We can work this out. Just tell me you love me again, and everything will be all right."

He lifted his head from her shoulder and groaned, curling his hands through her wet hair and kissing her with a fierce, tender passion. "I love you so fucking much," he swore with unrestrained ardour. "More than life itself. It scares me how much I feel for you. I don't understand it. I don't need to. I just... know I need to be with you and that I can't lose you."

"I feel exactly the same," she asserted. "These feelings I have for you, they make me nervous, but also give me so much happiness. A part of me is terrified by how easy this all is, especially given our past history. Another part is frightened by how easy it is for me to lose all control with you. I just give everything over to you, like I have no defensive walls anymore. I've never done that before - not with anyone. And I'm frightened that you're going to tire of me soon and move on to the next girl. You could so easily break me, Draco."

He gave her a wistful smile and shook his head, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I don't want anyone else. Not now or ever."

Hermione's throat became choked with emotion. "Ever?"

He stared deep into her eyes, his resolve absolute. "Ever."

"Me, too," she admitted.

She knew they were too young to think this way, and that they'd manically rushed everything between them, and that no part of their relationship made any logical sense, but in that moment, Hermione felt something in her soul click into place. It was followed by a sense of rightness and relief.

Deep in her heart she knew then that no matter where her life took her, no matter what happened, she would love Draco Malfoy with her last breath, too.

She leaned in and kissed him, silently sealing their promise with a loving pull of lips.

Feeling quite waterlogged, she and Draco agreed that it was time to call it a night. They got out of the shower, turned it off, and dried themselves. They dressed each other in silence, watching the other's movements with warm, contented smiles. Sneaking out of the bathroom and stealthily making their way back down the hallways, they thankfully avoided Filch and any wayward ghosts. At the stairs, they separated with a passionate kiss and a promise to meet up for breakfast the next morning.

Hermione watched Draco's platinum blond head disappear down into the darkness, and then made her way up to the Gryffindor common room. At the entrance, The Fat Lady gave her a knowing grin, and Hermione felt her cheeks heat.

"Honey, I've been here a long time," her House portrait whispered in secret. "I've seen it all when it comes to young love. Don't you worry. I'll not say a thing since you're one of the few with uncommonly good sense around here. Just don't make a habit of being out this late again."

Hermione agreed and thanked her with a relieved sigh, and entered the common room as quietly as possible. After tiptoeing to her dorm and changing into her pyjamas, she took her red ribbon in hand and slipped under her covers without awaking any of her roommates. Once beneath the cool sheets, her sore muscles and tired eyes relaxed and it wasn't long before she was in the land of nod.

Years later, when she was asked by her friends to describe the moment she realized she was a true Gryffindor, she would tell them of this night, and her decision to stay with Draco. She would admit that up until that particular point in her life, it was as if she'd always been standing at a fork in the road with one foot raised, but unsure of which path to take. When she'd made the promise to Malfoy to never want anyone else but him, however, it was as if she'd finally put her hovering, uncertain foot down and then began walking firmly and without regret down the passage she'd chosen.

That choice would change her in so many fundamental ways, making it possible for her to set aside her fear time and again to overcome impossible odds. It would force her to sacrifice until she bled for those she cared for, and allow her to have hope when there wasn't any to be found. Most important of all, it would help her to find the courage to fight to the bitter end for the sake of love.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER THIRTY:**

**Recommended Music selection for this chapter: **

_**"I See You"**_** by Leona Lewis**


	31. Ch 31: Green Eyed Monster

**Chapter Thirty-one: Green-Eyed Monster**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_****, _Scotland_**

**_November 19, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)_**

The next morning, Hermione woke up at her usual early hour of half-past five, and yet despite only having enjoyed six hours of sleep, she still felt extremely well rested. Apparently, being shagged to the point of exhaustion helped her to sleep. She grinned knowing Draco would say they'd need to test that theory immediately.

She moved her left shoulder and winced. Touching the dip of her neck, she gingerly probed the marks Draco's teeth had left on her. He'd bit down so hard last night that he'd actually broken through the skin. Luckily, the cuts had clotted, but they still stung and she was sure there would be bruising. She'd just have to clean and care for the wound this morning, and keep her collar buttoned to the top for the next few days to hide the mark. Later today, when she went to Hogsmeade, she'd pick up some bandages and salve.

As she got up to prepare for her day, Hermione glanced out the window of her dormitory tower. The sun had not yet risen, but there was a solid a break in the weather, as it was clear outside and there was no wind. Unfortunately, the calm wouldn't last according to the Weather Witch on the wall. The glass tube filled with magically charmed, rainbow-coloured globes worked similarly to a Galileo thermometer, except it predicted things like "lightning," "snow," "high winds," _etcetera_, not the temperature. Currently, a small, golden globe marked, "sunshine" hovered around the 'Morning' mark to indicate a cheerful start to the day, but a blue globe marked "rain" ominously held between the 'Afternoon' and 'Evening' markers on the tube.

Still, she didn't let the coming storm dampen her spirits. Just the thought of seeing the sun come out later this morning would be quite a nice start to the brand new day.

Smiling and stepping quietly through the room, she gathered her shower kit, a change of clothing, and a towel, and headed for the shared girls' shower room, which was housed on the fourth years' level, two sets of stairs below. She hurried down the quiet, dimly lit circular corridor aware that at this hour her chance of running into anyone else was practically nil. To be on the safe side, however, she kept the mark on her neck covered by slinging her towel over her shoulder on that particular side. It wouldn't do to have people see it and believe she'd been attacked by Draco.

After her shower, Hermione spent an hour catching up on homework before heading down to the Great Hall. By the time she entered, it was quarter past seven. Glancing about, she noted half of the House tables were full already, but when she checked Slytherin's side of the room, she was disappointed to see that Draco hadn't arrived yet. At her own table, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were also absent.

Picking a seat next to Neville, Hermione struck up a conversation with her housemate regarding next term's Herbology assignments. She knew from her advanced reading that they would be tackling the growing, care, and harvesting of some of the more dangerous poisonous plants, including Alihotsy, Hellebore, and Jimson Weed, and she wanted his take on the best pruning techniques for each species. She took copious notes during that discussion, as her friend was literally a font of information.

Approximately half an hour later, Harry arrived at their table with Ron in tow. The two greeted her and Neville with tired grunts and sat directly across the table from them, dragging their book satchels behind them. One look at their slouching shoulders and their sagging eyelids and she knew they'd been up much too late the night before, most likely hatching a plan to catch Draco at something nefarious, as usual.

As soon as she'd gotten a cup of strong, dark Irish tea into her two best friends, the conversation began to flow. To her pleasant surprise, there was an affability to it that had been lacking in recent weeks. The group joked about mostly inconsequential things: various antics in Snape's class, how Fred and George were spending their windfall of money with their store's success, and of Professor Slughorn's obvious adoration of Harry "The Wonderboy" Potter. Laughter was shared, and Hermione felt warm inside knowing that these moments weren't lost to them entirely, even if their lives had diverged drastically in the last few weeks. Of course, she was careful not to bring up Draco, and she noted that neither did either of her boys. Lavender was also not discussed.

Ginny came in at ten past eight and plopped her bottom down next to Hermione, giving her a nudge and a grin. "So, Miss Prefect, you're going to Hogsmeade for me today after your Transfiguration class ends, yeah?" she asked.

One of the special privileges that Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall had worked out at the start of term, once it had been announced that she was to be a Prefect again this year, was that she would be allowed to make trips to Hogsmeade to pick up necessary supplies during her free periods. Only Head Girl and Head Boy were normally given such rights, but she and Minerva had developed a solid relationship over the years, and the Headmaster had stated on more than one occasion that he had faith in Hermione's good judgment, often praising her strong sense of responsibility and maturity. It was for those reasons, in fact, that she'd been entrusted with the use of a Time-Turner during her third-year. Compared to the level of _that_ commitment, supply runs down to the village for fellow students seemed an easy confidence.

Ron sat up in attention and began talking around a mouth full of food. "You are? Brilliant! Would you be willing to stop by some places for me?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes with amused resignation. It was so like Ron to ask a favour of her when they'd just made up. _Well, sort of made up_, she thought. At least they were getting back to some sense of normalcy, and that was a good thing.

"What do you need?"

"If you're going to Scrivenshaft's, a new writing tablet," he instructed. "Oh, and if you're heading to Honeyduke's, could you pick me up some Jelly Slugs? Only, don't get any of the green ones. I hate those. Orange is my favourite."

Hermione reached into her satchel and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and inkpot, writing down the order. "Yes, I know. Orange has always been your favourite."

Neville nervously cleared his throat. "Uh, Hermione, if you're willing, could you take my Remembrall over to Dervish & Banges and get them to fix it for me?" He winced with embarrassment. "My Gran was really upset when she heard I'd let the pixie dust inside go bad from overuse."

She nodded and wrote that down on the paper. "Get it to me before Professor McGonagall's class ends or it'll have to wait until next time."

Luna came over then, obviously having heard the conversation from the next table over. "Hermione, if you wouldn't mind, could you please mail this letter for me at the village Owl Post?" she asked, holding out an envelope with her father's name and address on it. "I suspect Nargles are stealing my mail from my satchel before I can post it, because my notes are never there when I reach the Owlry."

Hermione took the letter and put it in her satchel, then wrote down the commission.

Harry piped up next. "Hermione, would you mind awfully picking me up an inkpot, as well?"

She wrote this task down, too.

It wasn't until Seamus Finnegan side across the bench they shared and requested she pick him up some Acid Pops, Fizzing Whizzbees, and some Pepper Imps at Honeyduke's - _"since you're goin' thar anyway"_ - that Hermione put her foot down. "Does anyone else want me to pick something up for them in the village today?" she loudly asked, irked at being take advantage of.

More than a dozen hands went up around the room.

"That was a rhetorical question, people!" she stated in a flat, irritated voice, putting her supplies away. "No more orders for today. My plate's full. Next time."

The hands went down with disappointed grumbles from her fellow classmates.

"Really!" she whispered her protest to Ginny.

"Well, you asked," her BFF reminded her with a grin.

Hermione chuckled as she cradled her morning's spiced tea between her hands, inhaling its lovely, familiar scent and blowing on it to cool it down. The cinnamon, cloves, and cranberry scent that hailed from the brim of the mug reminded her of her favourite night of the year: Christmas Eve. On that particular night, after the evening meal had been cleared from the table, it was an annual tradition in the Granger home to have a cup of her mum's specially blended spice tea and a plate of ginger biscuits for a sweet before bed. Typically, this entailed her and her parents sitting together in the living area of their home before a cheery fire, careful not to spill or drop crumbs, and enjoying their snack while swapping stories or catching up on each others' lives. Then, near the midnight hour, they'd all agree to open Great Aunt Elsbeth's gifts - and _only_ her gifts - so they could have a merry time chortling over the outrageous Poundstretcher bobble or trinket that the eccentric, miserly old woman had purchased for each of them that year. The one still to beat was the box of pink and very light lime-coloured candy canes that her father had received when Hermione had been ten; they were meant to be the traditional red and green of the season, but had sat in a window for so long, they'd gone off and their colour had faded. No one had dared eat them.

Yes, Christmas Eve was a magical time that always filled Hermione's heart with joy and the taste and fragrance of this particular tea was part of that enchantment. That was why every morning since she had begun schooling at Hogwarts she took her meal with a mug of it. The house-elves thought she was mad, of course, but she didn't mind. It was only a matter of time before she won them over to her way of thinking, anyway.

Her comfortable reminiscence of Christmas Eves past was disrupted with a voice calling her to immediate attention.

_He is here! Go-ran ni naru._

It was that strange, foreign woman speaking to her again, and this time, the last of her words were spoken in some strange foreign language that Hermione had never heard before. She immediately put her tea cup down and glanced towards the entrance of the Great Hall. Draco was striding down the aisle towards her, his gaze locked on her as if she were the only important thing in his whole world right then.

As had happened the day before, her body moved with a will of its own, rising and turning to greet him. In an unconscious move, she pulled at the hem of her jumper, straightening her clothing, and then her hand wandered to the ribbon she'd braided again through a small section of her hair on the side, fingering it. Comforting warmth rolled over her, relaxing and calming her excited state.

Like a string pulled taut, Draco came to an abrupt halt within a foot of her. Uncertainty marked his face, and she watched his eyes dip to the bend in her neck where the mark of his teeth was covered by her collar. There was a flinch of regret in his expression.

"Good morning," she murmured, giving him a reassuring smile.

Hesitantly, he reached out with one hand to brush his knuckles against hers. When she didn't shy away from the intimate touch, he took that as a sign that she wasn't upset at him, and grasped them in a light hold. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice like smooth, warm honey. It rolled over her senses, causing tingles from head to toe.

In just that moment, the morning's rising sun successfully broke through the looming cloud cover of the approaching storm and was permitted a final peek. Its white-gold light streamed down from the high Gothic-styled windows far above their heads and bathed the entire room in its transient warmth. The light glinted in Draco's silver eyes and sugar-white hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow, again making him seem like some sort of creature out of myth and fantasy.

Godric, but he was beautiful!

When he'd been younger, she'd thought Draco's angles too sharp, his features too pinched. Now, she found the arch of his brow and the slope of his nose to be perfect. His lips had grown fuller with age, and no longer carried the familiar sneer that had always made them seem twisted and ugly. And his body... Just thinking about being wrapped up in those strong arms and pressed into his chest, or the way his powerful thighs and hips bunched as he thrust into her was enough to make her a drooling idiot.

Honestly, she might have accused him of having Veela blood somewhere in his lineage if she didn't know how fanatical his family was about maintaining its pure-blood status.

Regardless of his family's genealogy, the fact of the matter was, Draco had grown up over the last few months, bringing him closer to the man he was meant to become once he reached full adulthood in his twenties. These recent morphological changes were just the beginning, too.

She knew from her research on Wizardkind that the current average lifespan for humans of magical ability had reached one-hundred and thirty-seven and three-fourths years in 1994 - that according to Ministry General Registry records, which were annually published in _The Prophet's_ Health section. She knew from speaking with Minerva that the Headmaster, himself, had turned one-hundred and fifteen this very year, in fact. The inexplicable lifespan separating wizards, witches, and Muggles had been studied over the centuries and pinned to the onset of puberty, as that was when those with magic began to age slower than their non-magical counterparts. That meant Draco was, technically, still going through his growth spurt. He would continue to mature over the next few years, his bone structure shifting ever so slightly and the muscle tone filling in. He could even grow another inch or two before his body finally settled.

God, he'd be even more heart-stopping then, wouldn't he? Every witch in the country would have her eye on him.

She nearly growled in jealousy.

Draco's thumb caressing her bottom lip brought her back into the now, making her realize she'd been frowning. "Will you sit with me today?" he asked in a soft voice.

She shook off her unsettling musings and nodded. "Of course."

Gathering up her satchel, the two of them turned towards the table assigned to Slytherin House, walking hand-in-hand.

As she moved away from her own House table, she happened to catch a silent look pass between her two best male friends. Apparently, Harry had divulged the false plan that she was dating Draco for information to Ron, but her former crush was finding it difficult to accept that decision. He glowered at her as she went by, and folded his arms across his chest in disapproval in response to Harry's nudge and the "let it go" shake of his head. Thankfully, he refrained from commenting, however.

Hermione knew that as long as the two boys believed her relationship with Draco was false, they wouldn't interfere or openly say anything disparaging. However, the look she'd just witnessed on both of their faces was one of growing suspicion against her. They'd begun doubting her alibi already, because she knew she wasn't a good enough actress to maintain such deceit. She prayed for the millionth time that Ginny's plan of waiting out everyone's prejudice would work, and she hoped she could be convincing enough in the meantime not to draw too much scepticism. Because, the truth was, if she failed in this - if push came to shove and she really had to choose between the men in her life – she knew the fight would tear her to pieces.

As Draco led her over to the Slytherin table, a different kind of dread settled in her belly. Would she be forced by her friends to pick sides? Could she continue to maintain Draco's confidence regarding his Death Eater status in the face of such pressure?

And what of _his_ friends? So far, all she could tell from the sneers and scowls was that the majority of them didn't care much for their pure-blood Prince falling in with a Muggle-born, and were critically considering the situation from every angle through narrowed, assessing eyes. Most likely, his Housemates were trying to find some leverage to use against her or Draco, as Slytherins were wont to do. Only Pansy Parkinson appeared irate enough with the situation to attempt to speak out. The girl popped up from her seat and opened her mouth as if to publicly lambast Draco, but Blaise Zabini pulled fast and hard on her arm, and she collapsed back down into her seat at his side. The two engaged in a heated, hissing argument then.

To his credit, Draco seemed completely disinterested in the drama going on around him, ignoring the blatant stares and whispered speculation from the rest of the student body. He kept his attention on their destination, shoulders square and arrogant strut perfected as he directed her towards the far end of his table where they could find some small measure of privacy.

As soon as she'd settled on the long, wooden bench, and Draco sat down next to her, he reached into the centre of the table for a plate and dropped a fresh scone on it for her. "So, what's your schedule for today after Potions Lecture, then?" he asked, reaching for his own plate and filling it with food.

She opened her mouth to tell him about her intended trip to Hogsmeade, but just then Ginny came over and plunked her bottom down across from them. She placed Hermione's forgotten tea cup in front of her. "You left this behind," she stated, pushing the cup across the smooth, lacquered surface of the table. She immediately turned her attention to Draco. "Morning, Malfoy," she acknowledged with a polite nod.

"Morning, She-Weasel," Draco snarked, giving Gin a teasing smirk.

Just like that, everyone in the room returned to their normal conversations. Hermione still heard her name and Draco's buzz around the room, but the tension had bled out and it was business-as-usual once more in the Great Hall. The touchy situation had been diffused with the simple acceptance of a person held in high regard by most of the others in the room.

Hermione glanced over at her best girl friend and gave her a look of grateful appreciation. Ginny smiled at her in return, and then struck up a conversation with Draco about how poorly Slytherin's Quidditch team had fared against her kick-arse Gryffindor team this season. She lamented Malfoy dropping out of the game.

"I'd loved to have knocked you off your broom onto the pitch at least once," her friend playfully goaded him.

Draco only laughed, amused by Ginny's bravado rather than annoyed or challenged by it, and countered that the only females who liked to play Quidditch were dykes.

The two went back and forth for a while with the amusingly veiled insults, and Hermione was amazed that two of the people she loved best in the whole world were getting along at all. They were doing it for her benefit, she knew, but she still appreciated their efforts. It lightened her heart and kept her mind from turning to darker thoughts.

Quite unexpectedly, Draco's hand dipped under the table and hitched the front of her skirt up a few inches for some skin-on-skin contact. Hermione covered a scandalized gasp by pretending to sip her tea, clamping her lips down on the rim of her mug to bite back a moan as he began stroking small, slow circles over her inner thigh.

She quickly glanced about, but noticed that there wasn't anyone close enough to the trio sitting at the end of the table to see what her boyfriend was doing to her, especially after she'd turned her body into that same, perfected three-fourths seating position she'd assumed a few weeks ago. With her back to the rest of Slytherin, she knew she simply appeared to be giving her undivided attention to her two companions, but in reality, she was silently coaxing Draco's fingers - daring him, even - to caress her with naughty intent.

He didn't disappoint, slipping under the band of her knickers and teasing her moist curls.

Hermione spent the rest of that breakfast with her nose in her tea or chewing on her scone, trying not to react outwardly to Draco's intimate touches. Occasionally, he would shoot a sly, wicked glance her way, but for all outward appearances, the scene looked very innocent and normal.

If only the others in the room knew the truth!

**x~~~~~x**

After the morning's Potions Lecture – where Professor Slughorn once again praised the "D-H team" from yesterday's lab efforts – Hermione and Draco sauntered back to the Great Hall for lunch around half-past eleven. By unspoken agreement, they returned to the same spot as they'd occupied this morning.

Instead of Ginny joining them, however, this time they were met by Theodore Nott. The tall, handsome Slytherin plunked his bum down next to Hermione and tossed her an appraising glance, the expectant look on his face indicating that he was waiting for her to comment on his intrusion, thus breaking the ice.

Hermione had never really talked to Teddy Nott in all the years they'd been at school together. She knew who he was and that his father had been outed as a Death Eater after the fight in the Department of Mysteries this past June, and was currently serving time in Azkaban the same as Lucius Malfoy. Also, according to his rumoured O.W.L. scores and his known grades, he was in the top of their class. She knew from Harry that Nott could also see Thestrals, which meant he'd witnessed someone die at some point in his life. He didn't seem to have many friends, preferring to avoid social cliques, but he didn't appear lonely or bothered by that choice. In fact, the only person she'd ever really seen him talking to aside from the teachers was Draco.

"So, you're her."

Hermione met Teddy's direct hazel stare, curious as to such an opening line and what it might imply. "What do you mean?"

Being at least a foot taller, Nott easily looked over her head at Draco, who was sitting to her right. Some sort of silent male communication passed between them in that one glance, but Hermione didn't catch its meaning. Whatever had been shared in that brief look was terribly amusing to Nott, however. The dark-haired wizard smirked. Draco, on the other hand, was not at all amused with whatever his friend was trying to convey. He outright scowled.

Teddy leaned his head towards her, veering off to coast over her ear and whispered, "The witch D's been pining over like a lovesick Kneazle for months."

Hermione jerked back in embarrassment at having a complete stranger move in to her private space with such intimacy, and her cheeks flushed hot at Teddy's implication. How much had Draco told his friend about their relationship? She didn't want to get a reputation.

Reading her concerns in her stiffening posture, Nott waved a hand with casual dismissal. "Don't worry. Draco's been a complete gentleman. I don't get any details." He reached into the centre of the table, ordered a pumpkin juice, and brought the glass that appeared in his hand up to his lips. "Still, it's pretty obvious. I mean, one look and anyone could tell you're both right and truly whipped."

Hermione was mildly worried by that comment. If Nott had seen through her guile, surely Harry and Ron would as well?

"Not that I can blame Malfoy," Teddy continued. "You're completely fit, Granger, and you're the smartest person in the entire student body. I can see why he's arse over tea kettle for you."

Hermione's face felt on fire. She pressed her hands to her cheeks, completely flummoxed by such direct flattery. "Th-that's very kind of you to say," she replied, tripping over her tongue. "A bit forward, but kind."

Teddy chuckled. "Oh, you are precious! Cute _and_ modest." He looked over her shoulder at Draco again. "A rare combo here, D. Better watch out or someone might steal her away from you when you're not looking!"

"Don't you have something better to do right now, Ted - like fuck off?" her boyfriend drawled, his tone dark.

Instead of being insulted by Draco's rather rude dismissal, the wizard at her side gave a genuine, loud laugh. It was a good, honest sound, Hermione noted, and something completely unexpected.

She turned and really looked at Theodore Nott then. He was nothing like she'd anticipated, honestly. She'd always assumed his quiet demeanour and nonconformist attitude reflected an elitist snobbery ingrained in his beliefs. That he'd never once attempted to speak to her, and that his gaze had often, in the past, moved over her as if she weren't even present left her with the impression that he simply stood by the stereotypical Slytherin aphorism: Gryffindors and Muggle-borns were an anathema to wizarding society.

Now, though, as she assessed him, she thought that perhaps Teddy hadn't been intentionally ignoring her all these years so much as that was generally how he treated everyone until he had a reason to interact with them. He was the quintessential "lone wolf" type; a separatist by nature until compelled by circumstance to behave differently. It certainly explained his lack of friendships and his solitary ways.

Even assuming that, she still wasn't sure if he was trustworthy or not. He _had_ snickered alongside Malfoy that first day of Slughorn's class this term when her blood-status had been mentioned, after all.

Perhaps though, like Draco, he'd had a change of heart?

She bit her lip while she considered him, puzzling out his motivations.

Noting her intense scrutiny, Teddy smirked and waggled his dark eyebrows at her. "Oh ho, Malfoy! I think she might fancy me a bit," he teased.

Behind her, Draco actually growled.

Nott leaned in again, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, I've got my own stash of strawberry gum." He playfully winked at her.

The man's audacity and flirtatiousness completely disarmed her, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. In this moment, he reminded her of Fred Weasley, who made a game of impishly "courting" her -_ read: propositioning her_ - whenever the opportunity presented itself now that she was of age. At first, Ron's brother had done it to watch her sputter and blush, but this past summer he'd also done it to cheer her when she'd been laid up because of Dolohov's foul curse. An added bonus was that Fred's outrageous comments always upset Ron, who might not have romantic feelings for her, but who felt the need to ride to her rescue against his older brother's teasing. Of course, there wasn't an ounce of sincerity behind the offers, and she and Fred both knew it.

This interaction with Teddy felt much the same. Hermione could also now see why Draco and he were mates. It was hard to resist someone so clever and whose comical manipulations were harmless fun.

Perhaps Teddy Nott would grow on her, given time.

In an unexpected move, Draco's arm wrapped around her from behind, and he drew her against him with a rather rough tug. "Go find your own, Nott," he warned. "This one's mine."

At first, she'd thought Draco was simply playing at being jealous, but that belief was quickly abandoned by the look that flashed across Teddy's face. The other boy wasn't smiling now. In his eyes and the frown that suddenly dropped into place, there was concern for his friend.

Nott's troubled expression lasted only a second, and then the joking mask was back in place. "No foul, mate. I've got enough lady troubles with Daphne at the mo'," he joshed, putting his hands up to indicate his intention to do no harm.

Despite the reassurance, Draco didn't let her go. On the contrary, his left arm pulled her in tighter to his body, squeezing with an almost constricting force. The pressure on her ribs and sternum was great enough to make it difficult to draw in air. Her boyfriend was, quite literally, crushing the breath from her.

"Draco, you're hurting me!" she gasped.

His hold tightened despite her protest, and against her lower spine, she could feel his iron hard erection as it pressed into her.

He wasn't listening. He wasn't going to let go!

Her terror level ratcheted up by several notches at that realization. That 'fight or flight' instinct kicked in, and she leaned back into him, trying to get an arm under his to pry him off. In that same second, her plaited hair brushed against his cheek, and the ribbon woven through the russet strands touched his bare skin. Malfoy hissed, jerking back and instantly, she was shoved away from him with enough force to propel her forward.

In a quick move, Teddy reached out to block her head was smacking into the table. "Shite! Are you all right?" he asked, keeping a wary eye on his best friend over her shoulder.

Shock prevented her from answering.

What had just happened? Had Draco really just tried to squeeze the life from her?

Hermione's whole body began trembling as the adrenaline screaming through her veins and her heart pumped a mad rhythm.

He'd really just tried to harm her - on purpose!

Anger replaced surprise. She turned to confront him, irate and ready for a fight, but stopped short when she noticed that her boyfriend had his back to them... and that he was panting in rapid, heavy breaths, as though he were in pain. That foreboding sense that something was terribly wrong, that there was something more than he was letting on, came to her again.

In an unconscious move, she reached up to run her fingers over the ribbon in her hair, seeking its familiar comfort. Along her peripheral vision, she could see that red flare of fire prickling the edge of her skin as she stroked across the fine, silken ends. It wasn't as bright a reaction or as overwhelming a response as it had been previously, but it was there, and it helped to calm her in a way nothing else could.

"Draco...?" She spoke softly, trying to get his attention, but her lover didn't acknowledge her. When she hesitantly reached out to touch him, Teddy's hand abruptly clamped down on her wrist, stopping her. He gave a single, sharp shake of his head, advising her against such action.

"But-" she began, only to be cut off by Nott speaking to his friend.

"Mate, it was all a jape," he stated, talking in a low tone so that only the three of them could hear. "Nothing serious. I know she's yours."

Draco took a deep, calming breath and let it out nice and slow. His whole body shuddered in response, as if his earlier volatile emotions were being controlled, caged. He ran a hand through his pale, lovely hair, and rubbed over the nape of his neck, but did not look at them.

"Teddy, can you walk her to her next class?"

The dark-haired Slytherin nodded. "Sure, D."

Hermione bristled. "I don't need an escort," she objected.

Draco turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, and his grey eyes were as dark as storm clouds and carried thunder in their depths. "Granger, for once don't argue. Just go."

"Not until we talk about this," she argued, but was cut off again as her lover abruptly got to his feet and hurried from the hall, leaving his satchel and her behind.

Flabbergasted, she could do no more than watch his retreat with her mouth hanging open and her heart and mind reeling.

What the bloody hell?

Having noticed the commotion from across the room, Ginny crossed to her side. "What was that all about?" she asked, her gaze trained on the Entrance Hall corridor just beyond the open doors, where Malfoy had just made his escape.

"It was nothing," Nott replied, getting to his feet and hauling his bag across his shoulder. "My fault. I crossed a line I shouldn't have." He collected Draco's satchel next, slinging it over the same shoulder. An air of false calm surrounded him. "He needs time to cool his temper. Give him his space." He shrugged, trying to make the scene seem like no big deal. "Ready to go, Granger? We'll get to McGonagall's class in enough time for you to claim your customary seat at the front." A small, sly smirk crept up his cheek. "That way you won't have to worry that she'll miss seeing your hand waving in the air for the next three hours."

Fuming over being shut-out from discussing what had happened between her and Draco, and with Teddy's ribbing, Hermione stood on shaky legs and mustered her ire. "Thank you, but I can find my way to the Transfiguration corridor on my own." Gathering her bag, she turned to Ginny. "You're off to Divination with Firenze, yes?"

Her best girlfriend nodded. "Just let me get my things."

She headed for the door, her mind whirling over the problem of Draco's odd behaviour. She worried about him, wondering where he'd gone off to. Would he skive off Transfiguration?

"Come on, Granger, don't be like that," Teddy sauntered up behind her, pouring on the charm. "D's just... emotional right now. Lots going on, you know? I shouldn't have egged him on."

She bit her bottom lip, considering the situation again, going through the series of events, her mind turning over ideas. "I know. I think there's more to it than his school work, and the pressure from our dating, though. I'm sure his father features prominently in..." She stopped and pursed her lips, not wanting to openly discuss such things as Draco's Death Eater affiliation with someone she just met, no matter his status in her boyfriend's life. Discretion was the better part of valour, after all. "In any case, he and I will discuss it."

"Later, rather than sooner, yeah?" Teddy gently cautioned, dropping his voice so that only she could hear him. "I've known Draco a long time, Granger, and I've seen his foul temper before. Despite it, I know he'd never hurt a girl. It's his line in the sand. That he crossed it today... concerns me."

They traded a look, and in that single glance, Hermione realized that Teddy genuinely cared for his friend's welfare. It made her begin to think that perhaps she might be able to trust him, at least a little.

"It's not the first time," she whispered.

Teddy's eyebrows shot into his hairline. He opened his mouth to clearly question her comment, but Ginny reappeared at their side at just that moment, and he clamped his lips shut. The three of them made their way towards Classroom 11, and Hermione discreetly filled her girl friend in on what had happened at the table.

As they arrived at Ginny's destination, they stopped across from the open door, preparing to part ways. "Do you want me to crush the git's bollocks for you?" the redheaded witch asked. "Because I will, if you want. Just say the word."

Hermione erupted into giggles, which turned into full-blown laughter as Teddy took several meaningful steps away from her best friend and manoeuvered both satchels to cover his privates. "I don't think that will be necessary, but I'll let you know if it comes to that," she told her friend.

They split off, and Nott wiped his brow as he readjusted the bags over his shoulder. "I've got to tell you, Granger: that girl scares me a bit," he admitted.

"Only a bit?" She threw him a sidelong glance. "The fact that she has six older brothers - one an expert at Curses, another a Dragon Keeper, the third a political animal who works in the Ministry, and then there's Ron, and... well, everyone knows Fred and George - doesn't frighten you?"

Teddy looked decidedly green around the gills. "Remind me never to get on your friend's bad side."

**X~~~~~X**

The foul turn in the weather that had been predicted by the Weather Witch on her wall that morning darkened the skies by one o'clock, dimming the light coming through the windows in the Transfiguration room. As the students filed in and took their seats, Professor McGonagall waved her wand to increase the brightness of the magically-lit wall sconces to compensate. Throughout her lecture, the rumble of thunder reverberated across the Scottish countryside, signalling that the storm was drawing closer.

The oppressive atmosphere affected Hermione's already dampened mood. It was bad enough that all through class, she was distracted by thoughts of what had happened earlier in the Great Hall, but the chill of the shifting air currents also made her lament not wearing thermals under her clothing that day. As a result, and contrary to Nott's earlier jest, she didn't raise her hand once to answer or ask a question, and she was forced to wrap her robes around her legs to keep them warm. Even her note-taking ability suffered because of her soured mood, as she found it hard to concentrate on Minerva's presentation. When she actually looked down at her parchment, it resembled not the usual, neat outline format she preferred so much as a branching tree with scribbles and half-completed sentences.

Questions and concerns whirled around in her mind, distracting her. Could she have done or said something different to diffuse the situation in the Great Hall earlier, or to have prevented it all together? Should she have let Draco just walk away like that or gone with her gut and chased him down, forcing a confrontation? She was also quite aware that this was the third time her boyfriend had treated her with a rough touch over recent weeks, and that the level of those offenses were becoming increasingly more violent. It made her wonder at the influence. Did this erratic change in temper have something to do with his recent indoctrination as a Death Eater?

The only person who could answer such things was Draco, as he was currently holding all of the cards and therefore was the only one with the answers to this particular puzzle. Therefore, it was, to her way of thinking, about time he started explaining the things she sensed he was holding back from her in this relationship.

Frustrated by how slow time seemed to be moving and becoming increasingly fidgety as a result, she waited for her teacher to turn her attention to the chalk-board to quickly peeked over her shoulder and seek out that telltale shock of platinum blond hair. Her disappointment was palpable when she realized it was absent from the crowd of bent heads behind her.

Draco hadn't shown up for class.

As she wondered where he might have gone off to, a strange, small knot of worry began to grow in her chest.

**X~~~~~X**

That coiling tension under her ribs incrementally grew over the next two and a half hours until, by the final hour of instruction, Hermione's intuition was screaming in her head to leave everything else behind and go search for Draco.

The logical side of her brain, of course, fought against the compulsion, reiterating all the reasons why such a feeling was ridiculous and irrational: He had not been given special privileges to leave school grounds as she had, so that meant he was still on Hogwarts property, and therefore safe behind its wards. Dumbledore had assured them all at the start of term that extra protection had been put around the school to satisfy that the students would be safeguarded. The Ministry was aware of Voldemort's reanimation - or whatever it was he'd done to satisfactorily come back from the dead - and had Aurors out in force. Draco was perfectly safe. He was most likely in his dorm room, cooling off, as Nott had reassured her.

Still, it was difficult not to jump to her feet and run from the room as they approached the last few minutes of class.

As soon as McGonagall dismissed the group for the day, Hermione abruptly stood up and threw her belongings into her bag. "I'm going to find him," she told Teddy, who had sat next to her for the entire lesson. She was suddenly very determined to find Draco and get to the bottom of the problem. "And I'm going to make him explain everything to me."

"Want me to go with you?" her new companion offered, his eyes betraying his concern over her facing down Malfoy on her own after what had transpired earlier that afternoon.

She shook her head. "No, this is something we have to work out on our own. Thank you, though."

Hurrying away, she practically ran all the way up to her common room on the seventh floor, and then up the stairs and down the hall to her dorm room. Tossing her bag onto her bed, she collected her wand and remembered to grab her winter coat on the way back out, donning it and a knit hat. _Just in case_, she thought, not sure where her search would take her, but not wanting a repeat of a few weeks ago, when she'd been caught outside without protection from the chill. She also grabbed an umbrella, hearing the thunder continuing to rumble through the air beyond the castle walls, and right behind it, the rain falling hard, approaching fast from the east.

Stepping through her portrait hole, she paused to calm her rioting emotions. Once more she sought the comforting touch of the magical ribbon to restore her balance, letting her fingers caress its silken ends again.

_Where are you, Draco?_

She concentrated on the image of him in her mind, and before she could even register a command to move, her feet were on the go, leading her down the stairs and out the Entrance Hall doors into the Viaduct Courtyard. From there, she continued across the Viaduct itself, heading towards the edge of the forest.

Even as she hustled into an area that was forbidden to all students without a staff member's escort, she felt the first drops of rain upon her. The air had not been quite cold enough today for snow, but because the sun had already set and the temperatures had plummeted, the wet that fell from the sky was more of a slush consistency than clear rain. It plopped against the tightly-drawn nylon material of her Muggle umbrella as she opened the protective covering over her head.

_"Lumos,"_ she cast, daring that beacon of light from the end of her wand, knowing she was going to need it to find her boyfriend in the dark.

As her legs carried her down the hill towards the edge of the forest, she felt a shiver of nervousness crawl up her spine. Would she even find Draco way out here tonight, and if so, what was he doing hanging out at the allowable bounds of the school? What would she say to him the next time they came eye-to-eye? What if she got caught out here by a teacher or Hagrid? Would she have her special privileges revoked, or worse, her Prefect status? And most frightening of all, would Draco behave violently towards her again once they had the confrontation she wanted? How far could that eruption of anger go?

What if Harry had been right about this point, too? What if Malfoy really was too dangerous for her?

Her heart and mind warred with that allegation, even as her eyes frantically searched every shadow for that remarkable sugar-white hair she knew so well.

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED..._**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE:**

**_Go-ran ni naru_**** = (_go-raan nee naru_) Japanese honorific form of language (called '_sonkeigo')_ for "look _(implied: look at that)_".**

**Info. & statistics on Wizardkind: _harrypotter . wikia wiki / Wizardkind_**

**According to canon, Albus Dumbledore was born in the summer of 1881.**

.

**Musical selections recommended for this chapter:**

**_"Magic" _****by Olivia Newton-John**

**_"Here Comes the Rain Again"_**** by Annie Lennox**


	32. Ch 32: It's Not the Real Me

**Chapter Thirty-two: It's Not the Real Me**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_****, _Scotland_**

**_Hogsmeade Village, Scotland_**

**_November 19-20, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)_**

Draco hurried away from the Great Hall, and then literally ran out the front entrance of the castle proper. He kept going until he was across the Viaduct, heading towards the forest, running with speed until his heart felt as if it would burst. At the edge of the woods, he loosened his tie and leaned against a young Wych Elm to catch his breath. Despite the winter chill, and the fact he'd gone outside without a coat, he felt overheated and sweaty. The combination played havoc with his lungs, and he fell into a coughing fit behind his fist.

Shite, but he'd almost lost it back there in the dining hall when Teddy had turned on the charm and flirted with Granger. Her bashful response to that attention had him seeing red. Then, when his best friend had intimated taking her away from him... The shaking jealous rage had come on fast, and it had been uncontrollable and ugly.

He shuddered again at the visual images that had flashed before his eyes as he'd watched his roommate and his girlfriend interact: he'd ripped Nott's limbs from his body and bathed in his friend's blood, and afterwards, while still covered in his friend's gore, he'd raped Hermione on the table in front of everyone while slowly choking her to death.

He knew who was responsible for such evil, depraved thoughts. _You bastard_, he snarled at the thing sharing space inside his head. _I told you to leave us alone!_

That dark presence lurking in the back of his conscious mind merely laughed at him.

Draco snarled. _You'll leave her be, or I swear on Slytherin's soul-_

The 'other' within him was completely undaunted by his hanging threat._ How do you plan to stop me... especially when I can do this?_

A wave of nausea quite suddenly overwhelmed Draco, and he was assaulted with dizziness as the thing inside shoved with strength against his mental walls again. It steadily inched forward, attempting to smother his consciousness to gain control of his body.

As he began to lose ground, prickling detonations of light flashed in front of his eyes. So close. He was so close to losing himself! If he did... Gods, what would he become? Would he become a monster, like his father, and his aunt? Or worse, like his Master?

_NO,_ he silently screamed, terrified by that thought.

Panicked, he squeezed his eyes shut and pushed back at that presence with everything he had, until at last, the sounds of his rapidly beating heart faded and his consciousness began slipping away. Eldritch darkness claimed him then, dragging him deep into the vaults of his mind, where he'd only ever visited his worst nightmares. There it held him in a constant state of free-fall, his cognitive self too buoyant for the grey matter of his brain and the bone of his skull to contain. He floated in a vast plain of nothingness, where the endless, quiet darkness went on forever.

The anxiousness he felt at his lack of personal control, coupled with the sensation of weightlessness, caused his stomach to roil and twist. That unpleasant sensation automatically triggered a fight-for-life instinct within him.

With a painful, forceful heave, he was pulled back through the layers of his subconscious, out of his stuporous trance, and into the light of day.

The sudden jarring sensation of returning to consciousness caused Draco's body to revolt, and he promptly bent at the waist and vomited up what little he'd managed to consume for breakfast, barely dodging his shoes. Surprisingly, _that_ seemed to shock the 'other' within him, and it backed off as if disgusted, slinking away into the corner of his head again. He could feel its contemplation, though, at what it had managed to accomplish there for a few moments in pushing Draco's higher self down into an almost comatose state. There was a sick sort-of glee radiating from it at that thought.

When the contents of his stomach had finally been emptied, Draco tried to put some distance between him and what had just happened, staggering away as fast as he was able. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, and spit to the side to rid his mouth of the acid burning the back of his tongue. His eyes flooded with tears, but he wiped those away, too.

He'd only gone perhaps a few dozen feet however, when he stumbled over a root and crashed directly into a Scots Pine. The hard, cold bark scraped against his cheek and temple, breaking skin as he turned his head at the last moment to avoid knocking his forehead.

With his knees shaking and his heart slamming under his ribs, he latched on to and leaned heavily against the tree, managing to barely keep his feet under him. Tiredly, he pressed his cheek into the wood and tried not to give in to his despair.

Time was running out. His strength was beginning to fail. It was only a matter of weeks, probably, and then he'd lose himself to the curse of the Dark Mark.

"Fuck," he whispered, feeling tears of helplessness fall down his cheeks.

A sinister chuckle from his evil half accompanied his realization.

Anger boiled through his guts, tearing through his rationality and driving him half mad. "FUCK YOU!" he screamed, gripping his skull and tugging on his hair. "I won't let you have me! I won't let you hurt her!"

_You can't stop me, _the demon within taunted, flashing images of last night back at him. _In fact, I don't think you want to._

Draco's shame threatened to asphyxiate him. It was true that last night he'd hurt Hermione, only she hadn't realized how badly the trust had been broken between them. He did, though. He knew it all too well. The memory had made him ill all last night after he'd returned to his dorm, chasing him through his dreams, and then again this morning when he'd spied the barest hint of a bruise above her shirt's collar.

She'd been using her mouth and hands on him, and he'd been teaching her how to please him in such a way, but the monster inside of him had abruptly decided that it wanted her to itself. It had slid forward, watching her through his eyes, and waited until he was at his most vulnerable to make its move.

When his defences were down, right when he'd come all over her breasts, he'd felt the shift inside. The dark presence roared up, shoved him to the back of his mind, and took over their shared body. _It_ pulled her off her feet and threw her against the wall with savage intent. _It_ pinned her, grabbed her hair in a vicious grip, and forced her neck back so that _it _could bite her. _It_ drew blood as _it_ punctured the delicate skin of her throat so that _it_ could feed off of her pain. _It _had fucked her with brutal determination, revelling in the hurt _it _was causing her. And when they'd finally reached the point of no return, when his dark twin knew Draco would absolutely have to find his release or die of want, _it _intentionally retreated, leaving him to finish what _it_ had started.

Helpless but to succumb to the lust the evil within him had stoked into life, Draco had given in and found his release, even knowing as he orgasmed deep inside Granger that doing so was very wrong. Just like their first time together, when he'd so savagely taken her virginity, Draco had achieved his pleasure at her expense. This time, however, she hadn't a clue of how badly she'd been used.

The guilt tore at his soul.

At least he'd managed to grab onto a small bit of sanity there near the end, and he'd tried – _really tried_ - to make some part of the sex good for her. He'd shifted his technique at the last, driving into her at an angle that he knew she liked, and she'd reached her peak in time. It had been all he'd been able to give her.

_I'm sorry,_ he thought, wishing with all his might that he wasn't so much of a bloody coward and that he could say such a thing to her face. If he had more courage, he'd explain it all to her. But he wasn't brave, and that was the point. Granger was the one with the brass bollocks in their relationship.

Dark laughter reverberated through his head, mocking him. Emasculating him. "Fuck you," he snarled back at the presence, and rallied his flagging mental strength to try to lock it away once more.

Before he could begin to counter its influence upon him, however, the evil thing lingering in his mind simply drifted back into its own quiet corner of his brain all on its own, content in the damage that it had inflicted today.

_At least for now, _it jeered.

"Fucking bastard!" he raged, riled into heights of madness once more. A haze of righteous fury settled over him as he thought of the evil things he'd been forced to do under the influence of this wicked part inside himself so far, and knowing it would only get worse once he was no longer able to hold it back. "I'll kill you first," he spat, stepping back and punching the tree with vicious force. "I'll kill you no matter what!"

Repeatedly, he slammed his right hand into the wood, cutting open his knuckles, pounding until he'd felt something crack.

A sharp, stabbing ache shot straight up his arm and into the back of his skull, causing him to cry out. The searing, burning pain cut through the storm of his anger and gave him pause. It brought him back from the brink of madness and violently thrust his awareness into the here and now. The sight of his swollen, bloodied fist – a self-inflicted injury - instantly caused his ire to evaporate.

What the fuck was he doing? He hadn't hurting the demon living inside him by lashing out as he had. He'd only hurt himself!

The monster lurking on the edge of his consciousness chuckled at him in sardonic amusement.

Falling back in shock, Draco's arse hit the ground hard, and then he fell to his side and curled into himself. Cradling his broken hand to his chest, he started crying, cursing the day he'd been foolish enough to let himself be branded as one of the Dark Lord's cattle.

**x~~~~~x**

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he lay drifting among the decaying leaves on the forest floor, waiting for everything to stop hurting. The muted winter sky far above was framed by the gnarled, naked branches of the dying trees all around and for a few moments, Draco imagined them as skeletal hands – Voldemort's mottled, gaunt hands - reaching out for him.

The sky thundered for what seemed hours, and then as the sun was beginning to drop from the horizon, the storm finally let loose its fury and icy sleet fell upon him in buckets. Soon, he was drenched, and the biting cold seeped into his bones and lungs with killer efficiency. His body shivered as his internal temperatures dropped, but as the minutes passed, he started to become numb to the bitter chill. Lying on his side, he stared at his wounded hand and felt his heart slow, sensed the encroaching darkness swooping down on him once more.

_Finally_, he thought, closing his eyes and willing himself over to the peace. He was so tired of fighting. Maybe this time, he wouldn't come back from that serene place of darkness...

Just as he'd accepted the inevitable, he was jolted back into consciousness by _her_.

"Oh my God, Draco! How did you get way out here?"

Hermione was suddenly kneeling at his side, her alarmed expression illuminated by the bright, white spell radiating from the end of her wand.

"Granger," he sighed with relief. His limbs moved as if they had lead weights tied to their ends as he tried reaching his uninjured hand to touch her cheek. "I'm sorry. So sorry," he said between chattering teeth. It was urgent he say at least this much to her. "This morning-"

"Hush, now," she snapped, her concern making her anxious. "We'll talk about that later." She took her coat off and draped it over him, setting a big, black umbrella down on the ground next to his head so it sheltered as much of him as possible. Reaching for his hands, she examined them. "Godric's bane, you're blue and like ice! And where did this blood come from?"

She turned his hand over and he hissed as pain jolted through his system. "Oh, your knuckles!" she gasped, noting the split skin, the swelling, and the bruising.

Picking her wand up from the ground next to her knee, she waved it over his hand. "_Episkey_," she incanted, and Draco's right hand grew hot, and then equally as cold. "_Ferula_," she then cast a second later, and the same hand was tightly bound up in magical bandages. The tightening sensation hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Draco, listen to me," she desperately pleaded with him, rubbing his arms under the jacket to warm them. "Apparition isn't possible within Hogswarts' grounds, and anyway, I've not practiced that spell yet, as the class doesn't start until after the Christmas hols. So, I'm going to try levitating you back to the castle instead," she explained. "It may be a bit bumpy of a ride because we've got to rush and get your indoors before you freeze to death, so I'm sorry in advance! Just hold on for me, all right? I've got you."

He felt her spell lift him off the ground a moment later, and then he was being tugged along at her side at a rather brisk pace. How she continued to shelter his face with her umbrella even as she maintained her concentration on the spell, as well as navigated their trail back through the forest and into the castle he'd never know. The witch was a-_fucking_-mazing, though. He'd have to remember to tell her that someday.

As they made it into the Entrance Hall at last, the cotton that had increasingly filled his head and his ears made her encouragements sound fainter and further away, until it seemed as if she were speaking to him down a long tunnel. Spots swam before his eyes.

They were climbing some stairs when he thought he heard her say his name in alarm. He passed out before he could find out what was wrong, though, finally succumbing to the darkness.

**x~~~~~x**

"_Rennervate._"

Draco awoke in a bed, under a scratchy, woollen blanket that was stifling hot. He felt feverish and sweaty, but thankfully lucid.

Far above his head, a familiar stone ceiling greeted him. The hospital wing at school. He'd woken up here more than a few times over the years between Quidditch, random fights with Potter and gang that ended in the need for hex reversals, and that ruddy Hippogriff incident that one time. How had he gotten here this time? The last thing he remembered was lying on the ground in the forest, being splattered with icy rain.

When he tried to sit up to get his bearings, a sharp pain shot up his right hand. He immediately cradled it to his chest and hissed from the hurt.

Soft, caring hands touched his shoulders, gently pushing him back down into the pillow. "Don't move," Hermione bid. "The combined healing potions Madam Pomfrey gave you will make you sick if you jostle around too much."

"Why are you here?" he asked his girlfriend, his mind muddled with lard.

"Because I'm the one who found you lying nearly unconscious on the forest floor an hour or so ago," she explained. "Don't you remember?"

Dismayed that there seemed to be a gap in his memory, he shook his head.

"I levitated you back to the castle, and brought you here to the hospital wing," she told him. "You were hypothermic, and you'd somehow broken your hand. You're safe now, though."

His mind skimmed over what he could remember of the last day. There had been the incident in the dining hall, and then he'd rushed out. He'd ended up crossing the Viaduct and heading into the forest. He remembered fighting with his other half, and the fear and rage that had overcome him.

Slowly, it came back to him. He'd intentionally hurt himself, and then he'd been shocked by the level of violence he'd unleashed. He'd never displayed that kind of anger before. He'd been nasty more than a time or two in his life, but never to the point where he'd inflicted _major_ damage. Frankly, he hadn't thought himself capable of such a thing. His father, yes, but not him.

Granger fussed with his blankets, tucking them under his chin and tutting about like a mother hen. "I've been given permission by Professor Dumbledore to stay here until the ward closes so I can care for you."

Fuck. No, no, _no._ He couldn't risk her being this close to him, not when it was abundantly clear that his other half was gaining control and that it wanted to hurt her. He had to keep her at arm's length from now on if he wanted to keep her safe.

With as much contempt as he could muster, he icily asked, "Who asked you to?"

Hermione paused in her ministrations, staring down at him in confusion. "What?"

"Maybe I don't want your help. Merlin's stones, you fucked up a perfectly good death, Granger," he growled.

"Excuse me?" Now she sounded incredulous and indignant.

Good, let her be angry with him - enough to walk away and never look back. Then she could remain safely out of his demon's clutches. Besides, it was no more than he deserved after what he'd put her through since the term began.

"I was hoping to freeze to death, you idiot," he stated with false heat. "You spoiled a perfectly good suicide attempt."

Her hand reached out to touch his forehead, checking his temperature. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head as well?"

He huffed in frustration. "I'm serious. I was trying to off myself, and you ruined it. You Gryffindors are always interfering where you're not wanted." He waved towards the exit with his good hand. "Aren't Potter and the Weasel missing you or something?"

Hermione _tsk'd_ at him. "Draco, you've got a high fever, and are suffering from the effects of hypothermic shock, as well as shock from a serious injury to your hand, so I'm sure you're in a great deal of pain - which would account for your rather foul temper at the moment. Despite that, I have absolutely no intention of leaving you in this condition until Madam Pomfrey returns from her supper to check on your progress and gives me leave to go. She should be back soon." She tucked the covers again around him, affectionately pushing his bangs off his forehead. "In the meantime, try not to be too surly and overly-dramatic. And get some rest. It'll help the healing process."

She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, and sat back down in the chair at his side, lifting a book from her bag to read.

Draco inwardly cursed. Why did she have to be so bloody _nifty?_ Why couldn't she just do what other girls did when he picked a fight with them: tell him to fuck-off and storm away? That would make things so much easier.

Exhausted and feeling rather nauseated by the potions, he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing. Within moments, he was out cold.

**x~~~~~x**

He awoke and the first thing he noted was daylight coming through the window directly across from his cot, indicating that he'd slept straight through the evening and night. He glanced over at the Sandkeeper on the wall: it was five past eleven in the morning on Wednesday, the twentieth of November.

The second thing he noticed was that Hermione wasn't at his side. But then, she wouldn't be, as she'd be in class at this time of the day.

The third thing that caught his attention was how hollow his stomach felt. It rumbled with hunger.

"Ah, awake at last, Mister Malfoy?" Madam Pomfrey asked in her typically clipped tone, appearing at his side in a magic minute.

He grunted in response and struggled to sit up, careful of putting any pressure on his right hand. It felt mended, but he wasn't taking any chances. The school healer applied a gentle hand to his shoulder countering his attempt, though. "You're not quite well enough for that," she warned. "Your wounds have been treated, but you still have a low grade fever. I'm afraid you're here for at least one more day."

With a sigh of frustration, he gave in, slumping back into his pillow with a sigh of disgust. He still felt like seven shades of shite, but what he really wanted was a nice, hot shower just then. Clearly, he wasn't going to be allowed to have one.

Drawing his right hand from under the covers, he brought it up to his face, flexing the fingers and wrist. There was a nasty purpling bruise on every knuckle and across the back of the hand, and it was rather stiff, but at least he could move it without too much pain.

"Quite a nasty Brawler's Fracture you had there," Pomfrey chastised him. "Four of your five metacarpals were practically crushed." She tutted in displeasure. "Luckily, the cold outside was at a sufficient enough temperature to keep the swelling down, and to help slow the bleeding from your cuts. Miss Granger did an admirable job healing and bandaging the damage as well. I only had to use half a dose of Skele-Gro on you yesterday." She looked down at him with a disapproving frown. "You're a very fortunate young man. You could have died from exposure or been permanently unable to use the hand if she hadn't saved you."

"Yeah, I'm really lucky," he snarked.

The old witch put her hand on his head, ignoring his bad-temper. "Yes, tomorrow at the soonest," she pronounced, and tucked his blankets around his legs. "Are you hungry?"

He grunted in the affirmative.

"Very well. I'll be back with some soup." She hurried out to order some food up from the kitchens for him.

He still hadn't eaten by the time Hermione came in half an hour later. She took the same seat at the side of his cot and bundled her bag into her lap. "Madam Pomfrey tells me you should be out of the hospital by tomorrow morning."

She sounded very tired, and when he assessed why that was, he spied the dark circles and the lines of exhaustion bracketing her eyes. "You're not sleeping enough," he chastised her. "You need to take better care of yourself."

She gave him an amused smirk. "Mister Pot, meet Mister Kettle."

Draco leaned back against his propped pillow instead of answering her and looked away towards the far wall. It was hard to stare into her earnest, brown gaze knowing how much innocence he'd stolen from them.

"Right, so are you going to tell me what is going on with you," she asked, "or am I going to have to give you some Veritaserum?"

He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye and gave a snort of disbelief. "You don't have any-" His lips clamped shut when she withdrew a small, clear vial from her satchel and shook it in front of him. "What, did you fish that?" he asked, annoyed at being outmanoeuvred.

Hermione shrugged. "Professor Slughorn's stores aren't as well charmed as Professor Snape's were," she explained. "Besides, I'm dating a Slytherin now. I had to consider what he would do if the positions were reversed. Then, I acted accordingly."

He had to admit that he was impressed with her cleverness. Still, Draco could hardly let Granger threaten him with something as potent as Veritaserum. He had his pride to consider... and more than a few secrets to keep. "Doesn't matter," he explained a bit smugly, crossing his arms. "It won't work on a good Occlumens like me. That's why they don't usually accept it in the Wizengamot. But then, you should know all about that from your Wizarding Law class, I expect."

Her brow furrowed. "First, I _did_ know that, and second, when did you learn Occlumency? It's not taught at Hogwarts."

_Damn_, he thought, realizing his slip too late. He couldn't let Hermione know the how or why of his training in such a secretive magic without revealing the tasks Voldemort had sent him to do here at school this year. If she found that information out, she'd most likely blab to the Headmaster, thinking she'd be putting a crimp in the Dark Lord's plans. All that would accomplish would be to elevate them both, as well as his mum and Lucius, to the top of his Master's hit list. He couldn't let that happen.

Clamping his jaw shut, Draco unfolded his arms and looked away.

"You're not going to tell me, then?" she asked, frowning in disappointment.

"I can't!" he shouted at her, and immediately realized that they were too out in the open to be having such a discussion. He lowered his voice when he emphatically stated, "We can't talk about certain things, Granger. Not ever. I've told you that several times already."

Her gaze lowered as she carefully tucked the vial of Veritaserum away in her satchel and sat back in her chair. "I see."

He ran his hand through his bangs to push them off his face. "No, you really don't," he spat, "and that's the truly fucked up part."

She was quiet for a bit. "It must be hard for you, holding onto so many secrets," she finally stated, her voice whisper soft and her expression crestfallen. "I thought we were close enough to trust each other, though. Or is that not what our... relationship... is supposed to be about?"

Draco clenched his fists as his side, refusing to reply, knowing he'd be damned no matter how he answered that one. Better to let her think the worst. At least then she'd distance herself from him and be safe...

Holy shite, this was it, wasn't it? Their end. The thought was like a stabbing ice pick to the chest. There was no way Granger would accept his silence any longer, and he refused to endanger her and his parents with his truths. Fuck, but his mother had been right: this had been inevitable. It hurt worse than he'd imagined it would.

Gritting his teeth, he worked to shut his emotions down, turning his face away from her again. If he continued to look at her, he'd cave.

The mattress dipped a bit as Hermione settled on the bed beside him.

Oh, Christ, if she touched him, he would definitely give in.

He scooted away, keeping his legs from brushing against her hip. There was another pause, and then from the corner of his eye, he watched as her hand stretched out towards him. He flinched, leaning back out of her reach.

"You won't even let me touch you?" she asked, her voice choked with emotion.

Merlin, he was hurting her, breaking her heart as assuredly as he was breaking his own, but it had to be done. _Had to. _It galled him to admit defeat at last, but he knew this was the right thing to do.

"No," he said, the word biting as it passed his lips. "I don't want you to touch me anymore. Never again."

The little gasp of breath that left her lips was like a stinging hex to his conscience. "Are you saying we're done, then? That... we're over?" she whispered, agonized.

_Just nod. That's all you have to_ _do,_ he mentally commanded his body, and let his head dip once.

_You fucking pussy. You can't keep me from her,_ his demonic side weakly snarled at him, finally making itself known. The potions in his system were keeping it at bay, although he didn't understand why that was, as they weren't affecting his mental state. Perhaps it had something to do with his physical body's condition? He honestly didn't know. What he did know was that he was in complete control of his own faculties for the moment, and was grateful for that much. This situation was difficult enough with having to fight with the monster inside, too.

"Five days," she murmured, sniffling. He could practically taste her tears. "It seemed like much longer, didn't it? Every second was like... forever. That's how it felt to me."

Draco nearly gave it up then, nearly threw his arms around her and admitted that he was wrong and that he wasn't going to break things off between them, but he forced his hands to remain at his sides and his mouth to remain shut. He had to let her go now, or the next time they got physically close, he might do more than just take her with a bit of roughness. He never wanted a repeat of their first time, especially the afters, when he'd felt such regret and confusion, and she'd walked away from him with hatred in her eyes.

_Please understand,_ he silently begged.

In a sudden, almost violent move, she wiped the tears from her cheeks with a firm swipe, and straddled his lap, placing her hands on either side of his pillow. Her expression was set with purpose as she leaned towards him, her eyes fired with fierce determination. She was a lioness staking her claim.

"It's not enough for me! That day at The Three Broomsticks, you told me to take you as I wanted. Well, I want more, Malfoy. More of this!" Her lips slanted over his in an unexpected move and caressed his with insistent, yet sweet overtures, sparking a response deep in his belly. He gasped at the sensation, and she seized that opening to swipe her tongue through the part of his mouth, stroking against him with desperate, erotic pressure. A groan of longing was pulled from deep within his chest, rumbling through his throat. Blood pooled bollocks and shot through his prick, making him as hard as steel in seconds.

God, how could he turn this down? How could he deny her anything?

_Have to,_ he reminded himself. _To protect us all, I can't... _He dug his fingers into the blanket, tightening them to prevent his compulsion to grab her, pull her down, and fuck her into the cot until they both died from the pleasure.

Abruptly, the kiss ended and she pulled back. "I won't let you go that easily," she hissed the promise in his face, her resolve a hard diamond in the setting of her eyes. "I won't let You-Know-Who take you from me. We're in this together - to the end!"

With that, she hopped off his hospital bed, grabbed her things from the visitor's chair, and stormed out of the wing, muttering something about going to the library. No doubt, she was going to do some sort of research.

Draco was at a loss as to what she intended to look-up there, though, since Hermione didn't have enough information about the Dark Mark's influence over him to know why he was behaving so oddly this term. He hadn't told her about the voice in his head that sometimes took control of him and was getting stronger by the day. The best she could hope to find in the Hogwarts library were generic materials on curses and mental disease, most likely Ministry-approved, heavily sanitized information for publication.

Ironically, she wouldn't be far off the mark if she considered that angle, but he doubted there would be literature on the Dark Mark, specifically, though. From what he could tell, it wasn't something that had been studied post-First Wizarding War.

Typical Granger, though, thinking books could solve every problem. He'd watched her for years and knew this was her coping mechanism. She was a Gryffindor with her heart, but a Ravenclaw with her head. Studying something until she knew exactly what made it tick and how to conquer it was practically her _raison d'être_.

When she was gone from sight and her footfalls had faded away, Draco lay back against his pillow and tried to calm his raging erection, both relieved and troubled by the strength of his witch's convictions.

**x~~~~~x**

Theodore Nott came to see him that evening. He took the seat that Hermione had vacated earlier that afternoon, lounging his tall, weedy frame casually in the chair, and stared at Draco with his young-old, hazel eyes.

"I know what's going on," he stated as casually as if he were commenting on the weather outside.

Draco snorted in disbelief. "No, I don't think you do."

He was sure that no one in the universe except another Death Eater would understand, and Teddy Nott was no servant to the Dark Lord. The guy was too smart, too slippery to become anyone's slave, willingly or otherwise.

His friend wasn't put off by Draco's harsh rebuff. He merely shrugged, seeming to take such scepticism in stride. "If you say so. Still, the same thing happened to my old man when he tried to bring a witch home after my mum died. You've got the same look as he did. Still does, actually. It's the eyes." He pointed at the inside of his left forearm as he spoke to let Draco know in a very Slytherin way that he understood the power of the Dark Mark's influence over his recent actions.

Draco sat up, his mouth going bone dry and his pulse kicking up a notch. Nott's father was a Death Eater. The man had taken the Mark years ago, when Voldemort was just starting his rise to power. Maybe his son _did_ have a unique perspective on things. "What happened?" he asked, licking his lips in nervousness. "To the woman, I mean."

Teddy took a deep breath and let it out really slow.

"My father killed her."

His heart crawling up his throat, Draco forced his next question past his teeth. "How?"

His roommate didn't so much as flinch when he said, "He tossed her down the stairs and she broke her neck in the tumble. I saw the whole thing."

Well, that explained a lot. Draco had always assumed the death of Teddy's mother was the reason his friend could see the Thestrals that pulled the Hogwarts carriages. Now, he knew better.

He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, feeling strangely vulnerable after hearing this new bit of information. "What am I going to do?" he asked, terrified of the thought of hurting Hermione in such a manner.

"You really love Granger?" Teddy asked, leaning forward in his chair, scrutinizing him.

Numbly, Draco nodded. "Told you, you have no idea how lost I am on her."

Nott sighed, dropping his head to look at his shoes. "Two choices then: either warn her about what she'll face if you stay together, or let her go. If you think she can handle it, then lay your cards on the table. If not, then get the bloody hell away from her before you throw her down some stairs someday – or worse."

Draco laid his forehead on his arms. He didn't want to look like a pussy in front of his mate, but his whole world had suddenly compressed down, narrowing in on him, making it hard to breathe. "I'm still fucked either way, aren't I?" he bitterly asked. "Even if I tell her, I can't stop this. It's taking me a bit at a time. I'm fighting it, but..." He shook his head, swallowing the lump of despair that lodged in his throat.

Teddy sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and sat back in his chair. "Not necessarily. I'll help you, D. I'll be there to keep you sane. Maybe we can even find a way to block the... _thing's_... influence on you if we put our heads together."

Draco glanced over at his companion, shocked by such a selfless offer. He and Ted were passing friends, like two cats who came across each other's territories every once in a while and decided it was a good place to hang together, but he'd never expected this kind of loyalty from the guy. The Slytherin side of him became instantly suspicious.

"Why do you care?"

Nott gave him a direct look to go with his direct answer. "Because you're worth saving."

They stared at one another in silence, letting that comment sit between them and really sink in.

In that moment, Draco felt his friendship with Teddy undergo a fundamental shift. Although Blaise had been his professed best friend since practically the first day of school, he was astute enough to recognize that the company he kept with Zabini was rather shallow; a step above fair-weather, really. Yes, they lived in the same dorm room, joked, shared homework, sat together often enough, were each others' alibi when necessary, and prior to this term, tended to spend nights up in the common room trading all of the sordid details about their individual conquests and gossiping about their schoolmates. Despite that, Draco had always been reticent to fully trust the man - or anyone for that matter - with too much of his personal information. That instinct had been beaten into him as a child by Lucius, and it was hard to undo that kind of training. That's why, as a general rule, he kept his darker secrets close to his chest, letting very few people see them.

Now he felt that model changing. This new connection with Nott felt like the real 'best friend' deal. His guts told him that he could trust the guy not to betray him. It was a strangely mollifying faith to have, while at the same time it made him nervous as hell to tread into such untried waters.

"Thanks," he offered, accepting Teddy's proposal to help.

Obviously deciding he'd had enough of the seriousness shite, Nott leaned back in his chair and tossed a smarmy grin at him. "'Sides, for some unfathomable reason, Granger really seems to dig your mutt face. I figure it must have been the gum, so that kind of makes it my fault." He was grinning like a fecking cat as he continued the teasing. "I mean, it must be absolutely _horrible _for you to have to endure such a hot witch's attentions. Don't know how you do it, mate."

A chuckle was pulled from Draco's belly before he could stop it, and he suddenly felt two stone lighter. "Feeling sorry for my plight? You going sentimental on me now?"

Nott chuckled. "You wish."

He looked over at his friend then, and in between the snickering, he felt a wave of gratitude. He knew the guy wasn't the type of get involved in other people's business, so the fact that he was willing to do so in Draco's case meant that he really thought highly of their odd friendship. He nodded in thanks to Teddy, who returned the gesture, and then got up to leave.

"I'm going to visit my dad in a little over a week," he stated, adjusting the strap on his book bag. "The Ministry is allowing me end of month visitations, since he's my only remaining family and he's on his death bed anyway. I'll ask him about _it._ His experiences and shite." He slung his satchel over his shoulder. "We'll talk more tomorrow, once you're out of here, yeah?"

Draco nodded. "Thanks, mate."

Teddy walked off with a jaunty wave behind his back. "You owe me two now!"

Hell, if Teddy could help him, Draco though he would owe the guy his whole, stinking family fortune. That was a price he would gladly pay to keep Hermione _and_ his sanity.

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED..._**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Please review!**

.

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter:**

**_"Animal I Have Become"_**** by Three Days Grace**


	33. Ch 33: Break Me Down

**Chapter Thirty-three: Break Me Down**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_, _Scotland_**

_**November 30-December 1, 1996 (Draco Malfoy's sixth year)**_

It was the second weekend since Draco had been released from the hospital, and the last day of the first term. Watching the clock on the wall in the Slytherin common room tick away the minutes was slow murder.

One minute past nine.

Two minutes past nine.

Three minutes past nine.

Anytime now Teddy would be back from Azkaban, where he'd gone to spend the day with his old man. Draco was hoping his friend would return with some information and insight into the influence of the Dark Mark. It was a long shot, but if a solution could present itself to reining in the presence of the 'other' that was beginning to crowd his brain and control some of his actions, he'd jump on it.

For the last week and a half, he'd been avoiding Granger to keep the darker presence inside his head under some semblance of control. He didn't talk to her, tried very hard not to look at her, and went out of his way to avoid being anywhere near her as much as possible. So far, the plan had been working quite well, as the vindictive demon living inside of him was more a snarky, foul-tempered irritation whenever she wasn't around, and only occasionally attempted to wrest control of his body from him. Still, it was sheer hell to be so near Hermione and not able to have any kind of physical contact with her. However, he'd resolved that until he knew enough to conquer the growing darkness within, he would not touch her again, and to avoid the possibility of temptation, he'd had to cut off all contact with her.

To his surprise, Teddy was as good as his word, in that he'd helped Draco carry his plan out without complaint. In fact, the guy had gone above and beyond the casual call of friendship. From the day Draco had been released from the Hospital Ward, Nott had been at his side, reminding him of what he was fighting for, and providing him assistance when he was close to caving in to his – and his other half's – desires. Teddy arranged a schedule of varying meal times for them to throw Granger off, made sure he and Draco sat together in all of their shared classes, and that they left together as well, effectively blocking Hermione's attempts to get him alone. When Granger approached him in the hallways, Nott would run interference so Draco could make a quicker getaway in the opposite direction. They did homework together in Draco's dorm room or, when it was really quiet, in their House common room at the study tables along the windows that looked out into the Black lake's depths. That way, Draco could avoid the library, where he knew his witch preferred to hang out.

During the rare moments he was unaccompanied, because Teddy was either off at some elective class or with Daphne on a date, Draco made it a habit to stay away from the Astronomy Tower, the Room of Erised on the fourth floor, and the Owlery – all places he might end up running into Granger alone. He spent a lot of his free time in the Room of Hidden Things, working on fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, just so he could say he'd honestly attempted to do so.

Overall, the last ten days had been something of a reprieve, allowing him to refortify his mental barriers to keep the monster inside at bay a little longer. However, the distance had clearly taken a toll on both of them.

During the last week and a half, Draco's impeccable dressing standards had become a second priority, and as a result, his clothing often appeared rumpled, his socks mismatched, and his shoes had definitely needed a good buffing. His hair, usually immaculate at all times, was quite frequently messy as he was forever running his hands through it. His eyes were tired and red-rimmed from lack of proper sleep, and he had almost a full week's growth of golden-blond stubble on his face, as he hadn't bothered shaving in all that time.

Despite his own disheveled appearance, he found he was more worried about Hermione. Dark smudges appeared under her eyes, and she seemed to drift when walking around the school, indicating a lack of proper sleep. She was uncharacteristically withdrawn and quiet in classes, not once raising her hand to a question or volunteering to take on a larger workload than she currently carried. Twice he'd heard her stomach growling loud enough to draw attention of those around her, so she wasn't eating well either. The only small comfort he could take was that the She-Weasel or Potter accompanied her practically everywhere, so she had at least one person around to help pick her up, force her to consume something nutritious, and get her moving. There was certainly no love lost between him and Pothead especially, but Draco was thankful for once that the guy was so damned chivalrous.

Rumors spread like wildfire, of course. Everyone was buzzing about him and Hermione splitting up after only a few days, and how she could now be considered just another one of his heartbroken conquests. There were the whispered queries about his poor appearance, too, which served to offset those about his girlfriend, though. After all, the whispers questioned if he'd been the one to do the dumping in the relationship, why was he looking so torn up, too? Even Blaise had dared ask what had happened between them, curious about Draco's sudden shift in behaviour, and asking whether this meant he might be looking to hook back up with Pansy. When Draco reassured him that he was fine, and no, he had no intention of trying to make it with Pans or any other girl at the moment, the guy looked more than a little relieved by the news.

All of that in itself he could have tolerated without taking insult. It was the looks to go along with the gossip that got on his last peck, though. Potter and Weaslebee threw him the nastiest smirks, obviously pleased that Granger had stopped seeing him, no matter the reason. Longbottom, Dumbledore, and even Snape gave him a disappointed frown each. Several of his fellow Slytherins looked at him with amusement, while others began contemplating how they could best use the situation to their advantage (a notion he quickly disabused them of when he caught them alone, individually, and made it clear that he was still the undisputed King of Slytherin, and would happily separate their nads from their cocks, if they tested him on that fact). There had even been three ex-shaggettes tossing him hopeful expressions. As if he'd give any of those slags a second chance.

Strangely, of them all, it was little Ginny Weasley that disturbed him the most, because she didn't look on him with anger or vicious glee or with calculating intention, but with sincere regret, as if she was in some kind of fucked-up mourning for his and Hermione's lost relationship. That bothered him on several levels, most importantly because it meant that she had to know something more than the others. Obviously she knew about him and Granger having sex, as it had been the redhead who had been the one to supply them with contraceptive pills, but how much did she _really_ know? Had Hermione confided the secret of his Mark to the girl? It was just one more thing for him to worry about.

He looked back up at the clock.

Ten past nine.

Where the bloody hell was Nott?

As if on cue, his friend walked through the common room's entrance and hurried down the stairs. Draco leapt to his feet. "About time," he growled.

Teddy grinned. "Missed me, darling? Sorry, stopped to snog Daph."

Draco knew his friend was lying by the fact that he wasn't chewing that damned strawberry gum, and also because he knew Greengrass was too much of a priss to sneak out after curfew. "Whatever," he drawled. "Let's take a walk."

Teddy made a grand 'after you' gesture, and Draco led him up to his dorm room. He kicked Goyle out, bespelled the room against spying of any sort, and threw himself down on his bed. Teddy took a seat on the edge of Crabbe's bed, directly across the way, and looked down at his shoes.

Not a good sign.

"What did the old man say?" Draco asked, feeling his stomach churning with dread.

Nott took a deep breath and let it out nice and slow. "I asked him about what happened to him when he took the Mark. He wanted to know why. I told him I was thinking of joining the cause, and wanted to know what it was going to entail."

Draco hissed and sat up, his guts tumbling to the bottom of his shoes. "Shite, you shouldn't have done that! If your dad talks, you may be forced to take the Mark for real. Fuck, what were you thinking?"

Teddy shrugged, unconcerned. "It was the only way to get him to open up. There's no way he would have said a thing if I told him I was asking for a Malfoy. He hates your father."

That was certainly news. "He does? I didn't know that."

Shifting, Teddy leaned back on the palms of his hands. "Yeah, well, it's common knowledge that most Death Eaters don't like each other. It's the competition for You-Know-Who's attention. Backstabbing cockroaches, the lot." He smirked. "No offense, of course."

Draco shrugged. It wasn't like Teddy hadn't given a correct assessment.

"Anyway," Nott continued, "my father bought what I told him hook, line, and sinker. He started bragging about how once I embraced the Dark Mark, I'd find my 'true self', and how that would free me in a way nothing ever had." His face scrunched up in revulsion. "He's a right loon, you know? All big-eyed and sweaty, grinning like a madman. He's sick shite, D." He shook his head with disgust. "So, I tell him that I don't want to lose who I am, and ask him if there's a way to keep me as I am after being Marked. He starts ranting and raving about how much of an idiot and disappointment I am to him. Yadda, yadda."

He stood, as if too agitated to be sitting just then, leaning against one of the bed's posts. "Long story, short: I'm sorry, but he said there's no way to stop the change. Of course, he embraced his evil willingly, but still…"

Draco's small sliver of hope was abruptly shattered. He had a fleeting thought of throwing himself off the Astronomy Tower or turning his wand on himself just to get it all over with. _Better that than to turn into a monster_, he thought.

Teddy closed the distance between them, and sat down on the bed next to him. The guy put a supportive hand on Draco's shoulder. "Don't give up yet, mate," he encouraged. "Someone must know a charm or something that can block the influence of the Mark. Maybe we should check out the library, go through the records, that kind of thing."

Draco shook his head, feeling rather despondent. "I think _she's_ been doing that already," he stated, referring to Hermione. "She'd told me that she wouldn't give up, and she's looked so tired lately. I think she's been doing research in the library for just that purpose." He ran his fingers through his hair and gripped tight, pulling with frustration. "If the Library Queen can't even find the answer, what do you think the chances are that we will?" He was all but shouting now.

Teddy was quiet in contemplation for a few minutes. "How about the Ministry records of Azkaban prisoners? Someone there must have information on the effects of the Dark Mark on those imprisoned the first time."

Snapping, Draco bit out, "And how are we supposed to get that kind of information, hmmm? Just waltz right down to London and ask for it? Both of our dads are Death Eaters and locked up right now in that very prison. Don't you think that'd be suspicious as to why we'd want to information?"

Ready to crack right down the middle, vibrating with frustration, he jumped up, prowled across the room, and kicked his dresser with force. "Shite!" he snarled, squeezing his eyes shut against the horrible reality he now faced. Leaning his forehead against the cool wood of the armoire, the hopelessness of his situation rode him hard and made him tremble with fear. "I'm done for, then. It's no use."

"No. I'm not giving up yet," Nott stated with conviction. "You shouldn't either."

Turning about, Draco leaned back against the dresser, feeling a million years older than he had upon waking this morning. Defeated, he asked, "Why are you doing this for me again?"

Because, really, no one in their right mind would go to the lengths Nott had for him without wanting something in return. Hell, blackmailing the desperate and needy was practically a requirement for being in his House. Sandwiched somewhere in between, _"All ethics are highly subjective and completely overrated,"_ and _"Wrong is one of those concepts that depends on witnesses,"_ in The Great Salazar's Creed was the implication that there was always a price attached to any Slytherin's aid.

His friend's expression shifted, his lips flattening out and his jaw tightening. Anger filled in the cracks around his mouth and in the corners of his eyes. "My father was driven mad by that godforsaken Mark," he admitted in a low, hissing tone, opening up at long last. "I lost him to it. I lost my mother to it. I lost my childhood because of it. I couldn't prevent any of that, but I can sure as fuck do something about _this_." He sneered, and there was undisguised hatred in his eyes. "That bastard Voldemort!" He spat the name, as if the very saying of it poisoned his tongue, and clenched his fists into the material of the bed's coverlet, bunching it up with barely-concealed rage. "I hate him for what he's taken from me! I won't let him have anything else!"

It was the first time Draco could ever remember seeing his friend lose his temper. Nott was usually straight-faced and even-keeled, vigilant and patient, although occasionally he could be obnoxiously jovial, too, especially when putting up a front. For him to reveal his true intentions, though, and to allow himself to become so vulnerable in the doing, was really quite shocking.

More astonishing, though, was that the guy had just openly declared himself against the Dark Lord – which was an automatic death sentence in some wizarding circles. If Draco hadn't changed this year as a result of… well, Granger's influence, he supposed… and he'd continued to be the ruthless, ambitious little bastard he'd been even six months ago, that information could have been dangerous for Teddy to divulge as he had. Now, though, they each had so much shite on the other that there was simply no way he or Nott would turn over their loyalties without serious repercussions.

Not that he'd ever want to hurt the guy. Ted was… well, he was the real shite – the brother Draco had always wanted. He'd tried for that kind of friendship with Zabini over the years, but his roommate had continually kept some distance between them, preventing them from fully trusting the other. Odd that he would find such a thing with Theodore Nott, the loner of Slytherin House.

As for Teddy's confession, it seemed the two of them had much more in common that Draco had previously realized. The Mark had taken Lucius from Draco, just as it had taken Ted's dad from him. They'd both lost a parent to the Dark Lord's unique brand of madness, and as a result, their innocence had become forfeit at too young an age. There was solidarity to be found in such shared bitterness, and that was something Draco could tie his trust to as well.

"What's the plan then?" he asked, wanting Nott to know they were on the same page again.

Between one blink and the next, all of the bluster seemed to go out of his friend's sails. Teddy fell back into the mattress with a resigned huff. "Tonight, we sleep off the bad news. First thing tomorrow, you make your gob pretty, head down to the Great Hall, and throw yourself at Granger's feet. You beg her forgiveness for giving her the dodge for the last week and a half. Avoiding her is no longer an option if we're going to go forward with the new plan."

Draco was dropped by that suggestion. "We have a new plan now? When did that happen?"

Teddy chuckled. "Just before you hauled off and gave your dresser a shiner."

"Fuck you." He flipped his friend off.

"You wish," Ted countered. "In any case, we're going to need your girlfriend's help, so you two need to play nice again. Her head has to get in the game now, not stuck in molasses, as it's been since you two called it quits. The being apart thing… it may have been working to keep your 'dark twin' calm, but it didn't reverse the problem of his existence, did it? He's still in there, you've said, and I've seen you struggling with him myself more than once. The only thing separating you from Granger accomplished was to make you two behave like Inferi all this last week, walking around in a zombie-like trance. You're just going to have to find a way to strengthen your mental walls when you're around her, D."

Draco shifted his weight and stared at his shoes. "Why can't _you_ just ask her to do whatever it is you're planning?"

"Because you're the only one who can convince her to break school rules," Teddy stated very matter-of-factly. "Hell, mate, you've already accomplished that a few times, from what you've told me – messing around on a teacher's desk, snogging in the library, having sex in the Room of Erised. You're a first-rate corruptor of the 'Lawfully Good' kind, I'd say. She won't risk such a thing for me. The request has to come from you."

Frowning, Draco glared at him. "And how exactly does my witch fit in to your schemes?"

Nott sat up on his elbows. "Quit being as thick as mince, mate. Use your noggin. She's taking a Wizarding Law class, yeah?"

"So?"

His friend abruptly stood up, crossed the room in a few short strides, and proceeded to slap Draco upside the head. "So, she's our way in to the Ministry records, you fob! Think about it: she's Miss Perfect Prefect, is loved by all the teachers, is a model student, and is the current head student of our year. No one's going to doubt her if she says she needs access to sensitive court documents from the Death Eater trials for a school project for her extra credit class. You know what a research freak she is."

The idea had merit, Draco had to admit. "No one would bat an eye at that excuse much less suspect Hermione of duplicity. She's much too goody." He mulled it over for a moment longer, but finding no flaw, had to admit that he was rightly impressed by Nott's cunning. "You know, it's brilliant, really."

The truth was, his heart had started racing the minute the idea of him getting back together with Granger had been proposed. Now that the plan required it of him, his excitement levels were hitting the roof. All of the reasons why it was such a bad idea were drowned out by the single, irresistible thought that he'd get to kiss her again.

Teddy grinned. "Of course it's inspirational. I thought of it." He linked his hands behind his head and stared up at the limestone ceiling. "And anyway, you need to know for certain if she's been doing research on your behalf here at school, and if so, what she's discovered. She may already be on to some angle we hadn't considered."

"Good thinking," Draco agreed. "What will you do while I'm petitioning Granger's forgiveness?"

Nott clicked his tongue behind his teeth a few times, mulling over his part. "I suppose I could Transfigure my face and hair to look different, and accompany your lady to the Ministry to help with the research effort. It's going to be a lot of work pouring over papers, but two of us could get through it faster than one."

Draco knew from the week the two had been studying together that Transfiguration and Charms were two of Teddy's best subjects. That wasn't surprising, however, since the guy had been in the Advanced classes for the subject since fourth year, alongside Granger, Macmillan, and the other academic hounds in their year. Personally, Draco favoured Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts over the other subjects he was taking, although his skill level in Transfiguration and Charms was rather strong, too. Ted was straight-up better in the latter subjects, though. No argument there.

"I could help with the research, too," Draco offered. "I know how to disguise my features well enough."

His friend firmly shot him down. "Even if you took Polyjuice and looked like McGonagall, people would notice you - specifically, people would notice when you're _not_ _around_. Shite, man, you were in hospital for only a few days, and the clucking hens were out in force. If you took off for the Ministry for a few days without a pass – which you couldn't get from Dumbledore, because what reason would _you_ have for going to the Ministry in the first place? - then you'd have trouble explaining your absence from school. You know leaving the grounds without permission while school's in session is a guaranteed month of detention if you're caught. You're just lucky that weekend visits off-site are still permitted for sixth and seventh years despite the rash of recent disappearances. If they'd instituted a complete ban on leaving campus, as they have for the fifth years on down, you'd have been Snape's bitch for the rest of this year for staying over at The Three Broomsticks that one time."

He poked a thumb into his chest for emphasis. "Me, on the other hand? Teachers and students don't typically pay too much attention to me, because I keep my mouth shut and my nose to the ground, stay out of trouble, do well in classes, and my looks are rather average in general, so there's nothing really remarkable about me aside from my height. Hell, I don't think anyone even checks my attendance but once a term in most of my classes. So long as I turn in my assignments on time, and appear for labs and tests, I tend to be overlooked in favour of the beautiful people like you, Granger, and Potter. It's not a deal for me to go missing for days on end without getting caught. I do it often, actually." He held up a finger to make a final, important point. "Plus, I know how to _Obliviate_, when necessary. Can you alter someone's memories yet?"

Shaking his head, Draco had to admit that nearly all Memory Charms were still beyond his skill level. Although he was really quite good at Occlumency - mostly because he knew how to hide his thoughts away behind distraction techniques, and how to shore up his mental barriers against attack - he was complete shite at Legilimency. Picking through the random mess of a person's mind to find precisely the memories you wanted, and then altering those strands of thought in the exact manner you desired… well, you'd have to be pretty powerful to attempt such a thing. One wrong tweak and you could permanently put your victim - or yourself, if you were a total git - in the Janus Thickey Ward right next to that idiot, Lockhart.

And you could completely forget attempting to do it to more than one person at a time. You'd have to be a deity to successfully pull off something that complex.

"You see? All the more reason for me to be the tag-along partner instead," Teddy stated. "I'm a failsafe in case things get fucked up and we need to take extreme measures to ensure our mission stays secret. Wouldn't do for the Old Snake to find out we're asking questions about how to counter his Mark." He put a hand on Draco's shoulder again and looked at him solemnly. "Besides, I know you're doing something Top Secret for the Dark Lord and I'm guessing it would be bad to interrupt that plan to go traipsing off to London."

Draco's mouth went dry and his heart slammed against the back of his ribs. He opened his mouth to spew out a well-rehearsed lie, but his friend cut him off with a sharp look.

"Don't lie to me, D. I was at your induction this last summer, remember? I saw the way Red Eyes looked at you, like you were his secret _sodding_ weapon. And this school year… you've been squirrely, which isn't like you at all. I'll admit I've kept an eye out on occasion, just in case. Followed you a few times to the seventh floor corridor, too, hoping you weren't going there to start a fight with Potter or something equally as stupid. When I saw you at Barnabas the Barmy's portrait, well…" He shrugged one shoulder. "I know what's there from last year when Umbridge caught Granger and her friends gathering in secret in the Come and Go Room. At first, I thought it might have been a girl you were seeing there, but… obviously not, yeah?"

Son of a bitch! Nott was too fucking smart for his own good.

This was bad. Really bad. He didn't want to involve Teddy any deeper into Voldemort's plans. If his friend knew the truth about Draco's tasks… Shite, the guy had already called attention to himself by questioning his father about the Mark. If daddy somehow got word out to his Master about his son's sudden interest in all things black magic, Teddy could end up indoctrinated into the Death Eaters with a skull tattoo of his own burned right under his skin – and a raging case of evil alternate personality to boot.

No way. No _fucking_ way was he letting Nott know what this was like.

He pressed his lips together into a tight line and stubbornly looked away, crossing his arms, letting his mate know that the subject wasn't open for discussion.

Teddy dropped his voice. "Look, fine. Whatever. You don't have to tell me a thing. Not sure I want to know anyway. Just… whatever it is… if it doesn't require you to do it within a certain amount of time, try to stall. If you have to produce results… well, shite, come ask me. I'll do whatever I can to help you."

Not going to happen.

He wasn't going to tell his friend that, though. He simply nodded, and the subject was dropped.

"In any case, we've got our plan now," Nott said. "First up: you apologize to Granger. Better make it good, too. Lots of groveling is the key to winning a woman's forgiveness. Make sure you chew some of my special gum, too. Can't hurt."

Hermione…

The thought of being able to just speak to her again energized him, banishing his earlier bout of melancholia.

He was going to shag her senseless tomorrow… if she let him.

No, wait, he couldn't let things get that out of control. Not until he learned how to tame the darker part of himself. He didn't want to risk it putting in an appearance and possibly harming her.

Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair again, latching on and tugging hard.

As if reading his mind, Teddy reached up and patted his head in brotherly affection. "Just try to be real careful not to be alone with her for too long," he advised.

In other words, no getting naked. Maybe not even heavy snogging. Hell, he wasn't even sure he could risk a kiss. He'd first have to gauge how the presence living within him handled him on his knees in front of her as he pleaded her mercy.

Draco sighed and nodded. "Life sucks."

Teddy laughed. "It's definitely not all beer and skittles, mate."

**X~~~~~X**_  
_

Second term started the next morning.

Second term, second chance. That's what Draco was hoping for as he jumped out of bed with some amount of eagerness and made his way to the bathrooms, his shower kit under one arm.

He bathed under a hot spray, making sure to lather up using Granger's favourite soap. He shaved with the help of a magic hand mirror, being extra careful not to nick his skin. Toweling off, he brushed his teeth until they gleamed, dried and arranged his hair until every strand lay in perfect order, and slapped a bit of that bergamot and amber-scented cologne onto his neck.

Back in his dorm room, he dressed in a crisp uniform and robes, made sure his shoes were shined, collected the books he'd need for this term – Charms Lab and Herbology Lab today - and threw them into his satchel with a fresh set of notebooks, a quill, and an inkpot. Then, popping a piece of Drooble's Strawberry Gum into his mouth, he made his way up to the Great Hall at precisely eight o'clock.

As soon as he stepped across the threshold of the dining room, he heard that strange female voice echo in his head again. It had been silent for the last week and a half, as if it could sense his need to avoid its commentary. Now, though, it nearly deafened him in its eagerness to point out the location of his witch. As if he couldn't have found her on his own.

_She's over there!_

Once more, Draco's eyes were irresistibly drawn to Hermione, as if she were his magnetic north. His heart started pounding in his mouth as her head snapped up and their eyes connected, and he accidentally swallowed his gum as his throat convulsed. Dropping his satchel against the door without care, his feet moved of their own accord, crossing the room, heading straight for her.

As before, Hermione stood up and turned towards him for their impending face-off, seemingly caught up in the same invisible tug of war as he was.

When they were less than a foot apart, his momentum abruptly stopped. His knees locked and his feet stuck to the floor. Like a puppet on destiny's string, he stood in place, unable to move.

All around him, he was vaguely aware of the stillness of most of the room, especially the Gryffindors sitting at the nearby table. Voices buzzed between the walls in whispered, cruel jibes and in curious speculation.

"_What does she see in him? He's a rotten snake!"_

"_No chance they get back together."_

"_Look at them. Shite, it's like they're on Amortentia or something."_

"_I can't believe he dated her."_

_"I can't believe she dated him!"_

"_They had to have been shagging."_

"_He's just using her."_

Draco remotely heard the comments, but his attention was too fixed on his witch to care.

Gods, even looking as tired as she did, he desired her so strongly that his whole body ached. The problem was, the moment he realized that fact, the darkness inside of him slowly stirred awake. Quickly, he clamped down on his mental walls before it could stir to strength in his consciousness, keeping that part of himself chained away.

It was strange how little control he actually had around this girl. Like, to keep from looking like some sort of Nancy Boy who was pussy-whipped in front of the whole school, he'd prepared in his head on the way up the stairs a cool, casual declaration about how they'd talk later, in private, about what had happened between them this past week and a half. Now that he was standing in front of her, though, he couldn't remember a bloody word of that speech.

_I'm so fucking sorry, Granger_, he thought instead, wishing he could push the words out from between his teeth.

Before he could register her movement, she'd slapped him across the cheek with enough force to turn his head. The blow didn't really hurt; more stung his pride. "I deserved that, I know," he acknowledged, rubbing the side of his face.

Hermione trembled with righteous anger. "Yes, you did," she declared. "You absolutely did."

He drank in the sight of her, taking pleasure from just this much, and despite her anger. Her furious, cinnamon-colored eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her cheeks were tinged with a dusky rose. Her curly hair was tied back into a single braid and _his_ ribbon was entwined in the plait. The magical gift glittered like warm fire in her dark sienna curls, giving them an auburn glow. He followed the curve of her long, white neck down to the top of her red and gold tie, wishing it were undone and the top buttons of her shirt opened so he could catch some cleavage.

A rush of longing rolled over his senses, threatening to drown him… and the walls in his mind trembled as the darkness came fully awake.

Stones, but she was so beautiful!

Without reason or thought, Draco reached out and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her towards him. Afraid that if he kissed her he'd lose control of his baser instincts right there, he settled for holding her close to his heart instead. He wrapped his arms around her and dropped his head so that his mouth hovered next to her ear.

"I'm sorry," he said on a quiet breath, the apology for her ears alone. "Forgive me."

With fierce joy and great relief, she threw her arms around his middle and hugged him back.

The room exploded with noise. Some voices actually shouted their approval, but most either gasped in shock or cursed him. Draco didn't care about any of it. He gave no thoughts to his Master finding out about this clandestine relationship, or about the fact that she was Gryffindor, and that they existed on opposite sides of the aisle. He didn't care about House loyalty, about his friends or hers, or about the fact that her blood was supposedly dirty. Such thoughts were wholly un-Slytherin-like, branding him a traitor to his father's faith, but just then, neither of those things matter. In that moment, nothing else existed for him but her.

"You forgive me?" he asked, wanting to make absolutely sure that they were on the same roll of parchment. She nodded, and made a small, assenting noise. He exhaled with relief, and pressed his face into her shoulder, inhaling the lovely cinnamon fragrance that seemed to follow her everywhere, careful not to touch the ribbon in her hair.

Rising up on her tiptoes, Granger nuzzled her face against his throat, and a heartbeat later, he could feel her sniffing his skin, scenting his cologne. The contented sigh she gave was at once endearing and arousing.

Pulling back, Draco gave his girl a tentative smile. "I'll go wherever you want," he stated. "You pick."

Taking his hand, she led him sit next to her at her House table, resuming her interrupted breakfast with a bashful grin. "Tea?" she asked.

He was about to tell her that tea would be fine when Potter began yelling.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Gryffindor's would-be hero seethed, jumping to his feet.

The entire room became tomb-like in the silence that followed, and Draco wondered why no staff member had descended on the Boy Wonder for his foul language. A quick glance at the front of the room showed no professors dining at the front table at this late hour. They must have already scoffed their breakfasts and made off to their classrooms to prepare for the first day of the new term, he figured. Lucky that.

Or unlucky for Draco, as the case may be, because now it meant there would be a showdown with Saint Scarhead, which might jeopardize his newly-recovered relationship with Granger.

"Yeah, I'd like to know as well," Ron shouted from the other end of the table, scooting Lavender Brown from his lap and standing up as well. He made his way over and stood beside Potter, pointing an accusing finger at Draco. "'Mione, what are you doing with this… this… despicable sleaze? He's a rotter to the core."

"Well, well, well," Draco snarked back. "Seems your vocabulary has improved a bit over the last two weeks. Invested some Galleons in a good dictionary at long last, Weasley? Oh, wait, that wouldn't be possible for you, would it?"

The Weasel King was absolutely livid at the riposte, Potter fumed on his friend's behalf, and Hermione elbowed Draco hard in the ribs to tell him to shut his mouth.

"Elbow them," he groused under his breath at her. "They started it."

"Hush up, all three of you," she growled. Irate, she threw her most stern frown of disapproval at Pothead. "I'm a big girl, Harry," she stated firmly and loudly, giving him a hard stare. "I've told you before: I can handle my own affairs. Stay out of it."

There was a moment where something silent passed between her and the Wonder Pip, but Draco couldn't interpret the unspoken communication. Whatever the moment had held for them, Potter surprisingly backed down. He narrowed his eyes in clear suspicion, but nodded in acceptance. "Fine," he said between clenched teeth. Collecting his things in a rush, he turned to the ginger git at his side. "Come on, Ron, let's go." He headed for the exit to the Great Hall without looking back once.

Weasley didn't leave with his friend, though. He continued to look down at Hermione with undisguised disgust on his gimpy, freckled face. "How could you let _him_ touch you?" he spat, nodding his chin towards Draco.

Draco felt his temper flare to roaring life, and the chains holding back his darker self rattled in his head, slipping a notch. He opened his mouth to emancipate a scathing rejoinder when Hermione countered the guy's question with one of her own.

"How could you let _her__?_" she asked equally as disdainful. There was no question that Hermione was referring to Weasley's blonde fuck toy.

That she'd choose to answer in such a manner shocked Draco. Why not just tell her former best friend that she preferred the sophisticated, wealthy and handsome Malfoy heir over an ugly, crude, impoverished chimp of a Weasel? Why the dodge? He glanced at Granger sideways, but for once, her face gave nothing of her true intentions away.

Wait a second… Could she still have some small feelings for the Weaslebee?

_She's mine,_ his evil side hissed, struggling against the mental constraints that held it down.

_No, she's mine,_ Draco countered with irritation, staring down at his fingers entwined still in Hermione's hold.

Yes, she was holding _his_ hand now, not Weasley's. She'd made her choice the second she'd taken him back and forgiven him. Honestly, that thought was the only thing keeping Draco from leaping across the table and bashing the other man's face into the wood just then.

Surprisingly, Potter had circled back around, by now realizing his bum buddy hadn't followed him out. The guy's hand landed on Weasley's shoulder with a hard slap and interrupted what was sure to be a long, drawn-out stare-off contest between Granger and the redheaded wanker. "Leave it," Lightning Bolt Brain advised his Housemate. "Let's go."

Following along like the good lackey he was, Weasley turned away and moved back down to the end of the table to gather up his belongings. The guy ignored the Brown bint's nagging questions about why he hadn't defended her against Granger's insulting insinuation as he tossed his satchel over his shoulder. He turned and threw Hermione a final look of loathing before marching off to classes early at Potter's side, leaving his clingy girlfriend in a snit behind him without a second thought.

With the Dunderheaded Duo gone, Draco felt the tension in his shoulders ease.

Although he thought Pothead's quick capitulation to Hermione's demand that he back off was cagey at best, Draco wisely kept his mouth shut, believing he understood the reason. Hermione had told him just last week that she'd had to lie to Scarhead to get him to ease off of her about their relationship. She'd been really torn up by the fibbing thing, but her argument for the reason as to why it had to continue had made sense to him: Potter would never accept them being in a serious relationship, and he'd hound her to her grave if she told him the truth.

Since Draco didn't care to see his witch so upset, and it cost him nothing to keep his trap closed on the matter, he felt that if she needed to keep up with the dishonesty for a while longer, he'd have no problem with it. Deception was just another one of Salazar's tenets, after all, nestled in between, _"History is a set of lies agreed upon,"_and _"There are only two ways of telling the complete truth - anonymously and posthumously."_ As a Slytherin, he could appreciate the need for the duplicity.

For now, anyway.

Letting out a deep, sharp sigh, Hermione turned to him and gave him a tremulous smile. Draco suddenly felt very proud of her courage; she'd held her own against a bloody difficult situation against people she cared deeply for. He knew what it had cost her to be associated with him, and felt a tad guilty about that… but not enough to give her up.

He gave her hand a small squeeze in reassurance, letting her know that he was on her side.

When the She-Weasel came in approximately five minutes later for a late breakfast, she gave them both a friendly, pleased smile, and Hermione noticeably relaxed as she chatted with her friend over a cup of morning spice tea and her usual scone.

Palms clasped together and resting on his thigh, Draco held onto Granger despite the fact he knew the gesture looked sappy, needing the physical connection after being apart for so long.

As if sensing his disquiet, her fingers lightly caressed his in a reassuring manner.

He playfully tickled her palm in return.

She tossed him a knowing look from the corner of her eye, a mischievous smirk teasing up the side of her face, even as she gabbed on about inconsequential things with her redheaded best girlfriend. She tried to capture his thumb to get him to stop, and then stroked with erotic intent over the pulse of his wrist in retaliation.

And suddenly everything was all right between them again. It felt as if the last week and a half had never happened. The dark shadow over his heart faded before her bright, lively smile. He concentrated on the finger duel they engaged in under the table while sipping a cup of strong, black tea, trying to capture her thumb in a definitive hold without the benefit of using his other digits. To give credit where it was due, Granger was awfully nimble, escaping his intended hold again and again.

Right as he managed to finally wrestle her thumb into submission, Draco felt a rush of pure happiness shoot up his spine and sink into the back of his brain. It was like the world was finally spinning right for him once more, and as if stars were at last aligning. In a phrase, he felt like the bloody King of Slytherin, ascending his rightful throne.

_She is your Queen,_ the foreign female voice that sometimes spoke to him from the magical ether let him know.

_No, she is __my__ Princess,_ the darkness inside of him answered with a snarl.

_Not if I have anything to say about it,_ he vowed to his other half, slamming down another mental wall between them, refusing to let Voldemort's evil taint this one, shining moment.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**_"All ethics are highly subjective and completely overrated."_ – quote from the American television series, 'Gilmour Girls' **

**_"Wrong is one of those concepts that depends on witnesses."_ – quote by Scott Adams, an American satirical cartoonist**

"**_History is a set of lies agreed upon."_ – quote by Napoleon Bonaparte, former Emperor of the French and King of Italy**

**_"There are only two ways of telling the complete truth - anonymously and posthumously."_ – quote by Thomas Sowell, an American social theorist and political philosopher**

.

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

"**_You Surround Me"_by Erasure**


	34. Ch 34: Got Your Attention

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**I added a lot of substance to this chapter over revision 1.0. There's a lot more character development in the various relationships in the story, as well as some added humour (some fun Ron-bashing, included) and sexiness.**

**EXTRA: A 'Babel fish' is a universal translator you stick in your ear in Douglas Adams' wonderful, "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" book. That's my homage to a wonderful writer and a fantastic story!**

**Many thanks to the lovely FireTaiga, who pointed out a few beta corrections to be made for this chapter!**

**Hope you like this chapter. Review, please!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-four: Got Your Attention**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_****, _Scotland_**

**_December 1, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)_**

Draco and Hermione walked hand-in-hand to her first class of the new term, which they just happened to share. Fortunately, Harry and Ron weren't in this particular Charms Lab, their schedules slightly different from hers, so she wasn't subjected to another round of arguing or worse, uncomfortable silences. In fact, it was a very small group of less than a dozen students in the classroom with them, which suited Hermione just fine.

Theodore Nott met them at the door with an amused grin. "I know we discussed you working hard to win her forgiveness, D, but that was… wow. Even for you."

Draco smirked. "You missed the really good part: I beat her in a thumb war under the table."

Hermione elbowed him in the gut. "No you didn't. Grabbing my thumb and holding it down with your index finger is an illegal move. It doesn't count."

Her lover scoffed. "Listen, if you want to play by hippy-sunshine Hufflepuff rules or goody-good Gryffindor regulations, then by all means do so, but Salazar Slytherin was crystal clear on the _'Anything to win'_ policy he set down a thousand years ago for us_._" Her lover's mischievous grin took up most of the space on his face just then as he mercilessly teased her. "I played by my House's conventional standards, therefore, it counts. You're just being a spoiled-sport. You should just accept defeat gracefully."

She gaped at him. "Accept defeat gracefully?" she repeated, astounded he'd make such a ridiculous claim. "But you _cheated!_ It's not a legitimate win if it's swindled." She whacked him on the arm with her wand. "Everyone knows that."

"You can be a vicious harpy when you want to be, Granger, you know?" he accused, cleverly diverting the conversation. "Hell, my cheek is still smarting from that right hand of yours." He turned to his friend, affecting the pitiful countenance of one who had been horribly victimized. "You saw her smack me, didn't you? She turned my head with the blow. That's boyfriend abuse."

"Yeah, I noticed her wallop you a good one." Teddy shook his head. "Hell, _everyone_ noticed."

"You more than deserved it, Draco," Hermione admonished. "You know you did. Besides, it wasn't that big a deal. As soon as the next juicy gossip makes the rounds, everyone in the school will get over it."

Nott made a face. "I'm not sure I can. That lust-filled _hug_ was just _way_ too hot for someone as innocent as me to handle. In fact, I feel a swoon coming on from the very memory. Quick, catch me!" He feigned a faint, but caught himself before he tipped over too far and sprung back into the standard up-right position, shaking his head with a grin at them. "In any case, no kissy-face in class you two, yeah? I've had enough mush for one day in my morning porridge."

With a mischievous grin, Draco leaned over and stole a quick, playful kiss from Hermione's lips. Teddy made an exaggerated gagging noise and made his way to a free seat, leaving them behind.

Draco let her choose their seats, and she decided upon the row directly behind Teddy. Her lover sat behind his friend and, with a huge Cheshire Cat grin in place, started tapping Nott on the back of the head with his quill. Teddy scrunched up a piece of parchment and threw it over his shoulder in response, hitting Draco square in the forehead. Hermione giggled.

By the time class had ended three hours later, Hermione finally understood why Draco was such good friends with the elusive, enigmatic Theodore Nott: the two were much alike in temperament, wit, intelligence, and in their general humour. They were like squabbling siblings, one light, one dark, yet both equally ridiculous. She thought that perhaps their statuses as only children within their individual families might have something to do with their connection; both were lonely creatures of habit, and they clearly found solace in that shared fact. Hermione could intimately relate, being an only child, too.

More than once during class, she'd had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud and disrupting Professor Flitwick's instruction. The two had continued to antagonize each other the entire three hours, passing dirty notes, playfully kicking at each other, and occasionally throwing things. It was incredibly childish, and despite the fact it interrupted her lesson – a fact that might have irked her just a month prior – she now found that she needed the good laugh that the two boys provided. Fortunately, she'd already read ahead the first three chapters in her Charms textbook this past weekend, just to be prepared, so she really hadn't missed anything that was being discussed in that first session as a result of the two Slytherins' amusing antics.

It was nice to smile again, honestly. The last four weeks had been a rollercoaster ride of emotion for her, but the last ten days in particular had been _extremely_ taxing. Her health had bottomed out as a result of her and Draco's break-up, and she'd fallen into a depression after realizing he'd meant it when he'd told her they were over, suffering all of the classic tell-tale symptoms: she'd been more tired than normal this last week, sleeping long hours, food had lost much of its appeal, so she hadn't eaten a proper diet, and her mind had been easily distracted, flitting over reasons for Draco's bizarre behaviour of late instead of fully concentrating on her school work. She'd entirely lost her enthusiasm in the classroom, too, not once raising her hand to answer a professor's question, and her turned-in assignments had been sub-par in her opinion. To make matters worse, she'd been cramping, had dealt with persistent headaches, had been unreasonably moody, and her breasts had felt tender all week as if her period were due, but she hadn't had her menses yet.

The stress of so many things crowding in on her at once had been slowly harming her, so it felt wonderful to laugh again, even if it was disrespectful not to give the teacher her full attention while class was in session.

Strangely, with Draco at her side once more, her troubles seemed to magically drift off her shoulders, falling away.

It seemed the same could be said of her boyfriend. He'd appeared as wrecked as she since their split, which had been her only consoling thought the whole time they'd been apart. Whatever had changed his mind regarding them not being together, she wouldn't question it, as it had obviously been a positive influence upon him. His pale-grey eyes shone with life again, he looked well-rested and well-groomed, confidant and spry. He looked much like the old Malfoy she'd known, minus the cruel streak.

From the corner of her eye, her ribbon glowed with a more powerful lustre once more, too, she noted. Maybe it had been her imagination, but she could have sworn that it had seemed duller in the time they'd been apart. Now, its fire was in full bloom, radiating through her, bringing with its warm light a burst of strength.

Under their conjoined desks, she grasped Draco's hand in hers, needing a physical connection to him. Instant desire flared through her veins the moment their skin touched, however, heating her bones, as it had back in the dining hall earlier. Red fire roared to life in her peripheral vision, surrounding and penetrating her.

Merlin, everyone must know by now that there was some funky enchantment happening between them, as there was no hiding such a brilliant display of magic. She only prayed Flitwick kept his back to them, continuing to work with Justin Finch-Fletchley on the proper swishing motions needed to master the Supersensory Charm, ignoring her until the light died down or something. She didn't want a scene.

Draco's gaze cut to hers with an intensity she hadn't expected, as if he also felt the heat from the ribbon's flame. His gaze lit up with sexual interest and his cheeks pinked with lust. His tongue peaked out, swiping at his bottom lip as if he were suddenly very hungry to taste her, and Hermione felt her breath catch. Just that little bit of stimulation, and her body was flushing with need, her nipples tightening. A trickle of warm liquid dampened her knickers, and she tingled from head to toe with tiny electric sparks.

Good Lord, why was this attraction between them so powerful?

As she stared at his lips, letting her gaze drift lower… and still lower, to note the hard erection tenting his trousers, her thoughts flitted over the memory of the way he'd felt deep inside her, rolling his hips and thrusting…

As is reading her thoughts, her boyfriend's free hand slid between his legs to stroke over his covered arousal once, twice.

"Don't," she whispered, a single plea to counter the temptation he offered.

"Why not?"

His question had been barely discernible, so quietly had he asked it, but she'd heard the wicked sensuality in his tone. Quickly, she shook her head, trying to discourage the heightened arousal they both felt for the other, as it was completely inappropriate in the given situation. They were in a classroom, for Merlin's sake!

"Oh, Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick called out to her.

She snapped to immediate attention, snatching her hand back from Draco's in the automatic reaction of one caught doing something they oughtn't.

"Yes, sir?"

Her teacher waved her over, and as she stood and made her way over to him with wand in hand. "Please demonstrate to Mister Finch-Fletchley the correct angle for the Charm while the rest of us move on, if you would," he requested, knowing well the level of her capabilities and study habits by now.

Relieved that he hadn't asked any personal questions regarding the ribbon in front of the entire class, she let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding and gave a small smile, feeling the queer pressure in her chest let up. "Of course, sir," she acknowledged.

Taking her place beside Justin, she watched him attempt to perform the charm, recognizing his errors in pronunciation and hand movement almost instantly. In the meanwhile, Flitwick carried on with his instruction to the remainder of the class, not once looking back at the ribbon as he moved off. Hermione thought that odd, but presumed that was because now that there was distance between her and Draco again, the ribbon's glow must have died down.

The distraction and separation from her lover's side for the rest of the class proved to be productive, as it allowed Hermione to concentrate on doing one of her favourite things in the whole world: helping someone weave and craft the magic within them into a spell that could perform miracles. By the time the castle bell tolled to announce the end of their third hour, Flitwick had dismissed the students and Justin had confidently mastered the Supersensory Charm.

"You are such a teacher's pet," Teddy joked with her as she returned to her desk to gather up her things to go.

She laughed, taking no offence in his poking fun, recognizing now that Nott was simply the playful type with those he considered friends. No harm was intended in his teasing. "I happen to like being called on to help others," she replied. "It's rewarding in its own way. And it gives me an excuse to practice my spells."

Ginny often joked that her Muggle roots were showing each time she went on and on about how fabulous and useful magic was, but she really was in awe that something so wonderful existed in the universe. She couldn't imagine how terribly dull and pale her life would have been if she'd never been born a witch, and felt grateful for that gift every single day. For that reason, she was never resentful when a professor asked for her assistance.

"That's the problem with you Gryffindors: you'd give the world your heart, if you were asked," her lover teased, kissing her cheek.

"Not all of us would do something so brave," Neville Longbottom piped in from the row across from them, shouldering his satchel and sauntering past on his way out the door. He tossed her a shy smile over his shoulder. "But Hermione definitely would."

Hermione blushed at such sweet commendation from her friend.

Draco took her bag and slung it over his arm with his own, then reached out and entwined their hands. "Come on, Super Witch. I'm starved. Aren't you?"

Her stomach growled in response, and she, Draco, and Teddy all burst into laughter at the ironic timing.

"Oh. Er, maybe you're right," she conceded, blushing to the roots of her hair. Rubbing circles over her tummy, she shook her head in amazement. "It certainly seems as if I've regained my appetite."

**X~~~~~X**

"Uh, where are we going? The Great Hall's right there!" Hermione stated the obvious, pointing behind them as they by-passed the dining hall and headed down the stairs into the Slytherin side of the basement.

Draco didn't answer the question, too intent on paying attention to where they were going in the ever-shifting dungeon, counting doors. He held tight to her hand and tugged her along after him as they rushed down the corridors and avoided being trapped by moving walls. They passed by the closed door to the stairwell where they'd once secluded themselves away for a round of hot sex after class one morning, and her curiosity gave way to mounting excitement. Was he taking her to someplace deep in the dungeon for a good, hard shag? Godric, she hoped so! She'd missed him more than words could adequately convey, and really, lunch could wait.

Her lover found an empty Potions classroom and guided her inside, shutting the door behind them. He did not, she noticed, spell the room for privacy, however. "Shouldn't you at least lock it?" she asked, confused by his lack of precaution.

Malfoy paused, readjusting the straps of both satchels on his shoulder, his expression and demeanour not at all what she'd expected. Instead of lusty and playful, he seemed oddly nervous, utterly serious, and not at all in the mood for any sexual games.

"Ted's picking us all up some sandwiches and will be down in a bit," he explained. "He'll spell it then. We have something important to discuss with you."

"Draco, what's going on?"

Rather than reply, he simply shook his head. His gaze was far away just then, staring blankly down the centre aisle between the student tables, clearly not seeing the room, but locked in his own mind in thought.

Not liking the dark turn things had suddenly taken after the good morning they'd had, she crowded into his side and rested her forehead on his chest. "Don't pull away again," she implored. "Please, don't."

Maybe it was the 'please', or the fact that she suddenly couldn't control the way her voice trembled over that particular word, or the nearness of their bodies after being so long apart, but whatever it was that goaded him into action, Draco seemed moved by her plea. With an unceremonious 'thunk', he'd dropped their bags to the floor without care, grabbed her by the arms and hauled her against him. He backed her down the aisle between the student tables, his pewter-coloured eyes heating and darkening again with lust.

"I'm going to fuck you… soon," he vowed. "Not now, but soon."

Her bum hit the professor's desk at the head of the room, and like he had the night of her birthday, he lifted her with any easy pull of muscle and set her on top of it. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled his wand out and waved it at her braid. The ribbon magically began to unravel from her hair. When it was free, it fluttered down onto the desk beside her. Draco used the tip of his wand to push it off the surface, out of harm's way, and it fell to the floor without a sound.

"Draco-" she began to protest, but he placed a finger over her lips to shut her up, laying his wand down on the table next to them to free his hands.

"I've been dying to kiss you all day, but I wasn't sure how far I could push, given we'd just gotten back together. But then in class… Bloody hell, I can't wait anymore," he admitted, dipping his head and capturing her lips.

Desire exploded around and through her the moment their mouths touched, evaporating any possible propriety and restraint Hermione had been clinging to.

Forgoing a smooth seduction entirely, Draco's kiss was raw and possessive, as if he were reasserting his claim on her. His tongue thrust forward, parting her lips and tangling up in a wild, wet glide with her own. He was growling as he both gave and took from her, letting her know in no uncertain terms just how much he'd missed her.

"_Mine,"_ he hissed as he broke them apart for only a moment to catch a breath before slamming back down on her with a hungry greed.

For her part, Hermione matched his ravenous indulgence. She thrust her fingers into his silken hair and fisted it, holding him to her as if she would never let go. In her throat, she moaned as he stepped between her legs and slid her skirt up, letting his hands caress over her naked thighs. Wiggling forward, she perched right on the very edge of the desk, allowing him the most exposure possible. He took full advantage, gliding under the fabric to grip her hips.

"Bloody hell, I've missed you Granger. I want you so badly, I'm bursting here."

"Show me," she huskily challenged, running her fingernails lightly against the back of his neck against the erogenous zone she knew existed there.

He groaned and shuddered, and his grip on her hips tightened. Swaying forward, he rubbed his hard length against her knickers, and she wished he would just slip the band to the side and plunge in…

"Kissy-face, people!" Teddy chastised as he sauntered through the door.

Hermione practically jumped out of her skin, startled by Nott's entrance. Mortified at being caught with her skirt around her waist, she hastily tried to yank it back into place. Draco snickered at her attempts at modesty, and quickly pressed a kiss to her mouth before helping her right her clothing.

"What'd you bring us to eat?" he asked his friend over his shoulder, seemingly unfazed by being caught in some heavy snogging.

With a few waves of his wand, Teddy locked the door behind him and bespelled the room for privacy. He strode forward with a large plate stacked high with different types of sandwiches in his hand. Setting it on the desk beside Hermione, he then reached into his robe pockets and pulled out three apples and three napkins. Finally, he reached into his satchel at his side and withdrew a medium-sized liquor flask and put it on the table as well.

"Got a rabbit in there somewhere, too?" Draco asked with a chuckle.

Nott grinned. "No, but if you're that adamant about one being present, I could always Transfigure _you_ into a cute, fluffy bunny with a wave of my wand. Bet your girlfriend here would love to stroke your soft, rodent fur. What do you think, Granger: would his pelt be white, like that time ol' Mad Eye turned him into a-"

"Yes, yes, we all remember," her lover interrupted his friend, his pale cheeks turning an interesting shade of magenta. He fiddled with his collar, and loosened his tie as if he were overheated, clearly embarrassed by the reminder of that day during their fourth year.

Hermione cleared her throat and reached for a sandwich which looked to contain ham and cheese. "Technically, rabbits are not in the taxonomic order of Rodentia. They're Lagomorpha. And ferrets are Mustelidae, like otters."

Both boys looked at her with something akin to awe. She grinned and took a big bite out of her sandwich, feeling rather proud of the trivia stored in her head.

Draco crowded in close to her again, giving her a sinful smirk. "Have I ever told you that your swottiness gets me hard?"

He dropped his mouth to try to take a bite out of her sandwich, but Hermione pulled it out of reach with an arch look. She was absolutely famished, especially after not having eaten so much in days, and here he was trying to deprive her of a meal! Besides, he'd just insulted her! "Swots don't share their food with gits," she peevishly informed him, and took another bite just to make her point.

He scowled. Hermione ignored him, continuing to enjoy her sandwich, guilt-free.

When she swallowed another big bite, she decided it was time to get down to business. Dabbing her mouth with one of the napkins, she asked, "So, what did you two want to talk to me about?"

Draco paused in reaching for one of the sandwiches on the plate, and turned his head to meet his friend's gaze. She assessed the two men, noting another silent message pass between them as their eyes met, but she had no idea what had been conveyed in that unspoken moment. Gah, if only there was a visual 'Babel fish' to interpret male communication! Perhaps she could invent a spell that…

Nott distracted her thought by stepping forward and swiping a sandwich off the plate. He found a nearby chair and sat down to eat, letting Draco take the lead.

Her boyfriend abandoned the idea of eating for now and instead, rearranged a stool so that it was set directly in front of her, hopping up onto it. Once he was situated, he opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly snapped it shut again, clearly struggling with how to begin.

Her stomach suddenly rolling with unease at Draco's uncharacteristic flustered state, Hermione put her half-eaten sandwich back down on the plate, unable to take another bite without the fear of vomiting it back up. Concentrating on folding and refolding her napkin into squares, she waited for him to get down to it.

"There's something you need to know about me," he began, fidgeting in his seat. "I mean, about what's been happening to me. Why I've been acting… uh…"

"More than a bit radge?" Teddy helpfully supplied while nibbling at the crust of his bread.

Draco gave an exasperated sigh and tossed Nott a warning glare. "Strange lately."

"That's what I said," his friend contended.

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Please continue."

Sighing with annoyance, Draco continued, "First, know that Teddy knows I've been Marked. He was there this summer for my initiation." He glanced over his shoulder at his friend. "I trust him, completely."

Heart beating out a rapid tattoo in her chest, Hermione glanced over at Theodore Nott in surprise.

She knew the dark-haired wizard was Draco's good friend, but honestly, she hadn't realized that Nott was close enough to her lover for them to share such an important, serious secret. Could they really trust him? Yes, she _liked_ Teddy, but she didn't really _know _him in more than the casual, friendly manner he'd shown towards her of late. Was he really that upright and dependable? Her boyfriend certainly seemed think so.

She blatantly appraised the other man, curious and a little unsure. To his credit, Nott didn't negatively react to her visible doubts; he acknowledged her assessment of him, and was completely undaunted by whatever conclusions she chose to draw.

"Completely, you say?" she asked Draco, realizing what that might mean beyond just the issue of the Dark Mark. A flush ran through her, and her cheeks felt noticeably hotter.

Astute as a snake, Teddy's smirk wound up his cheek. "Relax, Granger. Told you before that D doesn't share details… much to my great disappointment, because I'm betting you're the shag of the century, given all that boundless energy you seem to have. Although, I reckon I can always imagine how you sound and look when you-"

Draco shot his friend a death glare and pointed a menacing finger his way. "If you value keeping your prick between your legs, _don't_ finish that sentence_._"

Nott laughed.

Curious tingles raced through Hermione's body at the implication Teddy had made. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. "So, um, can we get back to the subject at hand? Are you… are you one of _his_, too, then?"

The question had just popped out of her mouth, unscripted, and as was the case with all conversational bomb drops, it changed the atmosphere in the room by degrees.

Teddy's face suddenly lost all its joviality, growing sombre in an instant. "No, I'm not," he answered. Tossing back the small square left of his sandwich, he lifted the sleeve of his robes while he chewed and swallowed, and unbuttoned the cuff of his left arm, rolling up his crisp, white dress shirt. The revealed skin underneath was blemish-free. "I won't take the Mark unless there's no other choice, and even then" –his eyes strayed to Malfoy, and pity reflected in his deep-set, brownish-green depths- "I think I'd rather die first. No offence, D."

Draco shook his head, as if to say none had been taken. "Believe me, if I knew then what I know now, I'd have never volunteered for it, either."

Hermione let out a shaky, relieved breath. Well, at least that answered that question: Teddy wasn't serving Voldemort. He really was one of the good guys. And clearly, Nott wasn't suffering from unstable mood swings, either, as Draco had been all school year… which was one more checkmark confirming her long-held suspicions that the reason for her boyfriend's erratic and often violent behaviour over the last few weeks had something to do with the Dark Lord's influence. In fact, she was almost positive now after noting the look that Teddy and Draco had just exchanged that the Dark Mark was responsible for the dramatic change within her lover.

Was that what he'd brought her here to tell her, then? Was she finally going to learn more about the hold Voldemort had over his youngest servant?

Draco took her hands in his, staring down at them with a disconcerted frown. "Granger, I know you've noticed that there are occasions when I'm not… myself… when we're together. I've hurt you a few times now. That first time we had sex, and the morning we were at the Three Broomsticks when I woke you up, and that night in the Prefect's shower. Then there was this last time at breakfast the morning when I… lost control. I've hurt you and I never wanted to, but… there's something inside me, making me do these things."

She nodded, her suspicions finally confirmed. "It's the Dark Mark causing it, isn't it?"

Draco and Teddy both jolted in surprise at her putting it together so quickly.

"How-?" Draco asked.

She sniffed with ladylike disdain, trying not to be _too_ offended by them being so shocked that she could have possibly connected the dots. "Really, it wasn't that difficult a conclusion to come to, especially with the radical differences in your mannerisms of late. You have a mercurial nature normally, Draco. You run hot and cold and flip so easily, one minute laughing with your friends, the next snarling in Harry's face. This school year, though, those changes have definitely become more… remarkable, as if you really are two different personalities at times."

She reached up and brushed his bangs to the side, so she could see his lovely eyes. "Since the only major changes to your life over the last six months have been your father going to prison and you receiving the Dark Mark, well, it only makes sense that one of those things had altered you enough to bring out the more sadistic, malicious side of your personality. I deduced it was the Mark, since: one, it's utterly evil and vile, and two, you take such great pains to assure never to let it touch me, not even through our clothing – which tells me it carries some sort of residual dark magic that you don't want me exposed to. That also means" –she held up a finger between them- "that _you're _being exposed to it all the time. Hence, the most malevolent wizard of the last century is somehow changing you through the Mark."

The wide-eyed, unblinking stare her boyfriend gave her was filled with blatant awe. "You're really brilliant, you know that?"

Hermione rolled her eyes to play off that she was secretly pleased by his praise, even as she was a bit embarrassed by it. "You've always underestimated me, Draco," she explained, stating the fact, divorcing her feelings from the matter to remain unhurt by things that had been in their past and trying not to judge him too harshly at the same time. "I don't take offence to that fact, because I realize it takes time to undo a life of prejudicial conditioning. You were raised to believe I was inferior, because I'm-"

"-Muggle-born." He glowered, discomfited by the truth.

She sighed. "I already said I forgive you for thinking such things. Just please try to give me a little more credit, though." She tossed him a teasing smile. "I'm certainly no village idiot, you know."

"No, that would be Weasley," Nott chimed in, grinning.

Giving Teddy a baleful eye, she _tsk'd_. "Listen, Ron may not be the brightest bulb on the Hogwarts Christmas tree, but he's-"

"A git," both Teddy and Draco concurred.

She took a deep breath, prepared to launch into an immediate rejoinder, but then remembered that she was still mad at Ron for his rude commentary in the Great Hall earlier that morning. "Alright, I agree that at times, he can be-"

"A flaming tosspot?" Nott offered.

"A total wanker?" Draco supplied.

"A shameless blighter."

"A ridiculous clod."

"An ugly plonker."

"A gormless muppet."

Teddy whistled in respect. "Nice one. I'm shaking your hand right now."

Malfoy smirked. "Thanks."

Hermione growled, irritated with their childishness. Yes, Ron could be… well, most of those things, honestly, but it wasn't polite to hurl such insults. "Can we please get back to the topic at hand? Lunch will be over soon, and I promised to go to the village today to pick up some things. I'd like to finish our discussion, have a bit more to eat, and get down there and come back before dinner. I _do_ have to get in some reading later tonight. I'm only one chapter ahead in Ancient Runes!"

Nott gasped. "Well, that just won't do, missy! You need to be at least _three_ chapters ahead of everyone else at all times!"

"I know!" she stated, emphatically throwing her hands up into the air. "It's unacceptable, right?"

Draco's fingers under her chin drew her attention back to him, and she knew the moment their eyes met that the time for light-hearted banter was abruptly over. Her boyfriend's devilish amusement had been replaced with that of solemn deliberation. "Did you know that first time we… when I took your virginity, did you know I was out of control then?" he quietly asked.

A lump of emotion swelled in Hermione's throat, shutting down her good mood. "Not when it was happening. It was only after you snuck into the Hospital Wing to watch over me that I realized how different you were and started to put the pieces together."

Heart drumming again under her ribs, she tried her best to explain. "When it's _you_, you're gentle with me, Draco. You're sexual, certainly, but more sensual, not sadistic. And your eyes… they're a light shade of grey, almost like… silvery clouds. When that part of you that's harder, more vicious takes over, though, your touch becomes rougher, more violent, and your eyes start changing, turning darker until they're nearly black. Even your voice gains this… edge… to it. Like how it was when you were eleven and snarling at everything." She glanced down at his lips. "It's like… you're possessed, and can't help yourself."

He swallowed, and made a small, guttural sound in anguish. "That's… that's exactly how it feels."

"As I've said, I've noticed it each time it's happened, especially that day we first…" She paused at the hitch in her chest, and placed her hand over the area. Just thinking about the day she lost her virginity was still difficult. "At first, it was right. You have to know that, Draco. I liked kissing you and… the other things you did to me. It felt good… at first. But once your clothes came off, things changed. _You_ changed. It scared me, and then when you… it _hurt._ And you didn't seem to hear me when I asked you to stop. It was like you didn't hear me at all."

Leaning his forehead against hers, he shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. "I didn't. I think… whatever's happening to me, it… it made sure I couldn't hear you. It kept me in the feelings, driving me on and deadening my awareness of your protests. It… needed to be with you in that way, and it wasn't going to let me stop until… until it had finished." He scooted to the edge of the stool and snuggled closer. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Christ, I'm so sorry."

Hermione nuzzled his cheek with her nose, and then leaned forward and rubbed the side of her face against his. "I already told you that I forgive you," she replied. And she really had. It was still difficult to think or talk about that day, but she didn't bear any negative feelings towards Draco for it any longer, realizing that something else – some other force - had been directing him that day. "But I'm worried, about this darker side," she professed. "It's growing stronger, isn't it? I've felt and seen it. It's coming out more and more."

Draco slid down her body and laid his head on her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. He turned his face to the side, eyes still closed, clearly agonized over the situation. Wanting to provide him some small measure of comfort, she stroked through his soft, white-gold hair and ran her fingertips very lightly over the lines of sorrow that marked his face. "So, what is it exactly?" she asked. "Is it Voldemort, himself, taking you over?"

Her boyfriend turned his face so that it was pressed between her thighs, as if he were ashamed and hiding.

"Yes and no," Teddy interjected, recognizing his friend's distress and deciding to take over. "As best as I understand it from watching and listening to my father, his fanatic friends, and now D here, the Dark Mark acts as a sort of… conduit… for Voldemort's influence. Through it, he can contact his followers and summon them to his side, and he can even use it as a back door to enter their minds and read their thoughts. Unfortunately, it also seems to allow his tainted magical energies to leak through. He's literally poisoning his followers with his evil, and that's why, eventually, they all change into sociopathic and/or psychopathic monsters." He leaned back in his chair, lifting its first two legs off the floor, and rocked back and forth. "From what D tells me, his mother made some reference to the fact that it's a gradual eroding of moral character, but from what I've seen with my own eyes over the years, I think the speed in which it corrupts depends upon a person's innate character."

"You mean, if they're already predisposed to be a bully, it'll only become worse," she asked, wanting to clarify her understanding.

Nott ran a hand through his longish, dark bangs and nodded. "That's my theory. What I have seen in my own father's case is that, eventually, the desire to engage in… depraved behaviour… becomes second nature. Some of them even go barking mad and can't function in normal society anymore."

"Like Bellatrix Lestrange," Hermione muttered, remembering the lunatic witch from the Department of Mysteries fight the previous June. "That woman seemed completely imbalanced."

Teddy nodded. "Yeah, Draco's Aunt is a few chips short of a full stack – and that's what makes her powerful. She has no fear of the law or for the state of her soul, because she's become a raging fanatic to the Dark Lord's cause. She was probably a rabid bitch before taking the Mark, but after… well, clearly Voldemort's infection made her diseased self worse."

"So, you're saying that Death Eaters eventually lose themselves to, what, their Id?" At Nott's confused frown, she explained, "It's a Muggle philosophy posed in the very early study of the human mind and personality. A… mind healer… known as Sigmund Freud developed the theory that the 'Id' is the darker part of all of us that drives our basic instinctual responses. It's the part of us that is completely chaotic, lacking all higher moral standards, compassion, and empathy. Its main drive is to simply seek pleasure. Sometimes, that means causing others pain, while other times it means causing the self some form of pain. In that same theory, its counter is called the 'Super-Ego'. The 'Ego' is, supposedly, the middle ground between the two, and its function is to rationalize what the Id wants versus what the Super-Ego wants. That's a _very_ basic interpretation, but you get the idea, I hope."

Draco's friend mulled over her words, slowly nodding in agreement. "That sounds about right, from my understanding of the situation. Those Marked by the Dark Lord all eventually take great pleasure in bringing about suffering and destruction in some form. In other words, their 'Id' is given free reign, while their 'Super-Ego' is shunted to the side somehow, and what's left is this 'Ego' you speak of determining how to best go about deriving its pleasure. That's where the Death Eater's natural temper and talents come into play."

Hermione nodded. "I see where you're going with this. If the Death Eater was the type to secretly enjoy maiming small animals before taking the Dark Mark, then after taking the Mark, they'd be more likely to engage in such behaviour in the open, rather than hiding it away. Their fear of becoming a social outcast or of having to face criminal charges in the courts for such heinous conduct would be gone. They'd feel less guilt over committing the act as well."

Teddy set his chair back down flat on the ground and stood up, crossing over to the teacher's desk to snag an apple. "Got it in one! Take my own father, for instance: he had a serious inferiority complex as a child and young adult. Our family might be able to point back into its history and show an impressive pure-blood lineage, but it certainly didn't breed well in him. As a student here in school, he'd never accomplished anything significant, his grades had been borderline passing, and the photographs I've seen of him during those years prove he was downright ugly. As a prideful pure-blood, I'm sure those things galled him in secret. When he took the Dark Mark, those feelings of resentment were only amplified. Over the years, he'd become a violent and cruel bastard. He drove my mother into suicide, murdered another woman he'd brought home later to replace her, beat me often enough, and gleefully tortured and killed Muggles at Voldemort's side in the war." He took a bite of the apple, chewed and swallowed. "The Mark helped to free dad's inhibitions, bringing out the worst in him. It's now doing the same to Draco."

She looked down at the man who clung to her like she was his only lifeline. "What are you becoming?" she asked him.

Her lover's arms squeezed a little tighter around her, and another shudder went through him.

"I think D's becoming something in between his dad and mine," Teddy replied, when it became clear Draco wouldn't. "He's violent, but cunning. I don't think he's going to be like his father, though, who is a functioning sociopath. Draco has too much anger inside from all the shite he went through as a child-"

At that, her lover's head snapped up, and he swung around to fix a glare on his friend. "Don't say another fucking word," he snarled at Nott in warning.

Hermione was taken aback by the vehemence that had erupted from Draco. She jerked her hands away from him, and Teddy abruptly shut his mouth.

The ensuing silence was long, and had Hermione's heart crawling into her throat. She swallowed three times before she could get the words she wanted to ask past her teeth.

"What did your father do to you?"

Malfoy shoved away and hopped to his feet, putting distance between them. Angrily, he shook his head, even as he ran a hand over his bangs, pushing them aside. "That topic is off-limits." He pointed a finger at her, as she made to launch into a counter to his dictate. "Don't even think to argue it. You and me, we're not discussing my relationship with my father."

She scooted off the desk and took a big step forward, closing the gap. "This may be important, Draco. We all know Lucius took the Dark Mark, too. He's in Azkaban right now for it. I assume he had it when you were conceived, since Voldemort's first war took place around the same time you were born. What if your father being Marked at your birth is somehow an influence on you now that you have your own Mark?"

Stubbornly, her lover shook his head. "You're reaching. I'm telling you… leave off."

"How do you know, one way or the other?" she demanded, her fists resting on her hips. "You don't, do you?"

He didn't reply, but he didn't back down, either, the stubborn set of his shoulders and the rigid way he held his spine informing her louder than any words that he had no intention of being swayed by her speculation. Her curiosity was clearly unwelcome.

"You still don't trust me. Not fully," she stated, wounded by that fact. "You'd bare your soul to your best friend, but not to the girl you claim to love! What's wrong? Are you afraid your father will find out you snitched on him?" she challenged, stepping into his personal space.

Draco's irises visibly darkened. "You're meddling in things best left alone. Quit pushing me."

But she _was _going to push… and not just to make her point. The darkness was back in his eyes, and she could almost feel the malevolence just under the surface trying to get out. She needed to know if talking about his relationship with his father was a trigger, and why that might be the case. Was it fear that brought on Draco's instinct to fight back? If so, what had been done to him as a child to put such a fear into him? Or was it rage and hatred at being victimized in some manner, instead? What specific emotions provoked the monster within to come out?

"Did he hit you? Did he hit your mother?"

Draco's face flushed red and his jaw clenched. "Stop."

"He did. Didn't he?" she guessed, her heart clenching at the thought. "He was physically abusive to you both, wasn't he?"

"Shut your mouth right now," he hissed, his voice getting that peculiar edge to it that she'd noted before.

"No. We're going to talk about this," she calmly, but determinedly argued. "Whatever was done to you at your father's hand wasn't your fault, Draco, and you shouldn't be ashamed or view it as your personal weakness. You were a child, for Godric's sake! There's not much you could have done to stop him. Besides, if the Mark turned him vicious enough to not care if he hurt the people he loves… don't you see the correlation? It's what Teddy was saying about what his father did to his mother, and then to his mistress. It's what you're doing to _me_." The similarities between what had become of the other Death Eaters and what he was becoming were too obvious to ignore. They had to face that fact before they could move forward.

His whole body began trembling, and sweat appeared on his upper lip. "Fuck, just… leave it, Granger. Please. Walk away."

But she couldn't do as he asked, because now he was in too deep and she could see and feel that he was drowning… he was drowning in his anger and fear, and that dark wave was rolling over him once again, churning through him, and transforming him into some sort of terrible new form of life.

Everyone knew it was very unwise to pull a tiger's tail, but Hermione also understood that time was not on their side in this situation, and tiptoeing around the particular problem of Draco's alternate personality was not going to make it suddenly, magically disappear. The… thing… inside of him was growing stronger by the day, and from what she gathered, it was only a matter of time before it took up permanent residence. Founders knew what would happen to _her _Draco then. Would the boy who had held her hand and whispered in her ear on the way to class this morning that he still loved her disappear forever? Would he become an untameable, unstoppable force of evil that needed to be put down, like the other Death Eaters?

She refused to let that happen.

Therefore, the more knowledge she had of… _it_… the better their chances of discovering a way to defeat it. If that meant yanking out the predator's whiskers one at a time until she got its full attention, so be it.

"You want me to walk away? Am I to take it that we're breaking up again?"

The shadows under and around and inside Malfoy's eyes darkened, bestowing a sinister quality to his handsome features. "I didn't say that."

Well, anger was definitely a key to provoking the change, it seemed, but she'd known that already from the morning in the dining hall, when Draco had nearly squeezed the breath from her. He'd been angry at his friend for flirting with her…

Wait, was that part of the puzzle, too? Was the darker character living inside Draco's head also motivated by jealousy?

Taking a deep breath for courage, she steeled herself for what she had to say and do next to find out…

"Maybe we should just quit this, Malfoy. You don't trust me enough to tell me important pieces of your life, or to let me help you find solutions to your problems, and truly, I'm tired of working so hard to keep you. This is too much work." She flung a loose, curly strand of hair over her shoulder with false bravado, affecting an air of nonchalance. "I'm sure there are plenty of easier relationships I could be in right now. Ron might not be available, but Harry certainly is."

She cringed at that, not just because she'd never consider Harry in such a matter, but also knowing from what Draco had confessed to her in her dorm room that her relationship with her spectacled best friend threatened him. Would his resentment of her contemplating something romantic or sexual with Harry draw out the 'darker' side within her boyfriend?

The answer appeared to be an unequivocal 'yes'. Draco's eyes grew so overcast that the pupils appeared as barely a shadow within the iris, and his teeth flashed in a silent snarl.

Just one more push and then perhaps…

"Or maybe I'll take Teddy up on his offer instead," she quipped, turning her attention to the handsome, dark-haired Slytherin. He gave her a look that said not only was she utterly mad, but that he didn't want to get involved in whatever game she was playing. She ignored the panic that flashed across his face when she asked, "What do you think, Teddy? You and me, and some of that gum you mentioned?"

Her attention jerked back to Draco the moment the last word was out of her mouth, as a deep, rumbling growl emitted from between the tight line of his compressed lips.

That's when she saw it: the 'other' slid to the front of Draco's consciousness and took control of his body.

She knew the moment their eyes locked that she was no longer talking to her lover, for there was an indescribable fiendishness to his face that she'd never before perceived. Six years she'd been on the receiving end of this boy's cruelty, but never had she seen _this_ expression on his face before. The forbidding set of his jaw, the spiteful glint in his eye, the sneering curl of his lips… it all promised her punishment.

"There you are," she whispered, scrutinizing him. "It only took mentioning Harry and Teddy, but I got your attention finally, didn't I?"

At first, Draco's demon was surprised by her admission of deceit, but then an amused smirk painted itself across his lips. "You _are_ clever," he praised her, "and manipulative. I like that about you."

Without warning, he grabbed her by the shoulders in a tight hold, picked her up off the floor with a strength she hadn't expected he'd had, and slammed her down on the teacher's desk, knocking the air from her lungs. Hermione's head whipped back from the force of being jerked around, and her skull smacked into the wood hard enough for white stars to explode behind her eyelids and for her ears to ring. His lips were on hers a beat later, before she could even draw breath to replenish what she'd lost, delivering a ruthless, brutal kiss. At the same time, he fisted her shirt at the collar and yanked hard, tearing it, then he used her tie in a strangling hold to keep her head immobilized as he pinned her to the desk with his heavy body.

Dazed from being tossed so hard and colliding with the desk, Hermione's arms felt numb to her command to push him off. She whimpered into his mouth, tears of frustration mingling with those of pain.

Frenzied in his movements, Malfoy ripped his mouth from hers and shifted, biting down hard on her exposed neck instead. His aim was intentional as he pressed his teeth over the exact spot he'd bitten her before, in the Prefect's shower. She cried out as he clamped down with pressure, even as she shouted, "No, don't!" at Teddy, who had lifted his wand to hex Draco.

Nott hesitated.

Malfoy's attention immediately snapped to him.

"Let me deal with this," she requested of Teddy, trying to control the shaking in her limbs and voice. "I can handle him."

The dark-haired Slytherin frowned, his expression flashing with doubt as he vacillated over whether to do as she'd asked or not. Hermione hoped he'd trust her in this, as she wanted to talk directly to the monster born from Voldemort's Mark - to get a bit of insight so she could figure out a way to properly banish him later. The only way was to convince Teddy not to react.

"Don't make the mistake of underestimating me, too," she told Draco's friend. "I can take care of myself."

Nott met her gaze, and there was several seconds of silent debate between them. Eventually, though, he lowered his wand. He kept it in his hand, his grip sure and ready for action at a moment's notice, but it seemed he'd decided he'd let her run the freak show as she saw fit, for the time being.

Draco's attention reverted back to her the instant the immediate danger was past. His eyes were black storm clouds, filled with menace… and to her surprise, with lust. "Now that you've leashed the dog, where were we, princess? That's right. I was getting ready to fuck you to death."

"Ted's got you dead to rights," she told him matter-of-factly, trying to quell the panicked fear in her belly. Silently, she prayed to the cosmos that her plan hadn't been a mistake, and would in fact work out. "So, you might as well just relax and hear me out."

The fiend inside Draco seemed genuinely fascinated by her proposal, as his features shifted into something close to diabolical amusement. A cat would look much the same at a mouse trying to reason with him, she thought. He leaned closer so that their noses almost touched, grinding his rock-hard erection against her pelvis at the same time.

"I'm listening."

Hermione's words stuck in her throat, as a flood of terror washed over her. This was not the man she loved. This was some evil doppelganger with morally indifferent, black eyes and a desire for pain mingled with his pleasure. God help her, as she'd made a mistake in provoking him to the surface.

"Talk," he cajoled, breathing hot across her cheek as he nuzzled her with false affection. Working across her jaw, he placed small, seductive nips to her skin, as if he were eating her a little bit at a time.

She took a deep breath, rallying her courage once more, and when she was ready, she told him in very blunt terms what she intended to do to him. "I want you to believe me when I tell you that I won't let you win. I'll find a way to get rid of you forever."

An arrogant smirk worked its way up his cheek. "Really? And how do you plan to do that when I'll have you strapped down to a bed for the rest of your days?" He kept her from answering by tightening the hold he had on her tie and using it to tilt her head into the correct position for him to lead down and bite her bottom lip hard enough to bruise and break skin. The pain was sharp and caused tears to well up in Hermione's eyes until they overflowed and dripped down her cheeks. She whimpered for him to stop.

There was red streaked wetly across his mouth when he pulled away to stare down at her in triumph. "No, princess, there will be no more library trips for you. Not ever again. Your only job from now until I tire of you is to spread your legs, and service me as I see fit." He palmed one of her breasts and kneaded over it in a rough manner. When he dipped downwards again and thrust his tongue into her mouth to brand her once more, she tasted the coppery tang of her blood and nearly gagged.

"I own his body now, and through it, I own you," he gloated around pulls of his lips as he continued the assault of her mouth, his words as cold and cruel as sin. He pinched and twisted her nipple with a hard grip to emphasize his boast. Hermione grasped at the pain, and used her free hand to shove against his chest to try to get him to stop. The pressure let up on her sore nip, but Draco's monster remained as immovable as a brick wall. "Fuck, but I'm going to love breaking you both!" he gloried in his imagined victory, humping against her thigh as he pressed his face against her neck and licked over the bite mark he'd given her.

Hot, churning anger exploded in Hermione's gut at the thought of him believing she'd just roll over and let him rape her again.

"I warned you not to underestimate me, you bastard," she snarled.

When Malfoy had been distracted by Teddy earlier, she'd grabbed Draco's wand from where he'd placed it down on the desk. Now, she pressed its tip into his side, and with a slight flick of her wrist, she hexed him.

"_Stupefy._ _Incarcerous_."

Red light flashed, knocking her assailant off of her and thrusting him back against the wall. He hit the chalkboard with a powerful blow and a bark of pain, and was driven to his knees. Rope appeared from the wand's tip next and magically wrapped around Malfoy's torso, pinning his arms to his sides before he could so much as blink to react.

Electric arrows of agony shot through her entire nervous system as Hermione hauled her body up and off the desk. A deep belly grunt escaped from between her lips as she shuffled on unsteady knees to Teddy's side. Nott stepped forward to meet her half-way, his wand up and pointed at Draco again, and his aim steady. He wrapped his free arm around her and held her to his side, lending her support so she could keep her feet under her.

"You okay?" he asked in a low whisper.

Tears filled her eyes again, but she brushed them back. "Yes, thank you." Her limbs, neck, lower back, and spine were stiff and tender, but the adrenaline was rushing through her, and that unique chemical cocktail allowed her to keep her feet when shock might have otherwise stolen her body's will. "I think… provoking him to come out wasn't one of my better ideas," she admitted.

Nott nodded. "Definitely not. He looks ready to rip the wings off an Abraxan."

Malfoy stared up at them from his knees on the floor, snarling and struggling to break free from the enchantment. "I'm going to hurt you bad for this, princess," he vowed on a hiss.

Teddy sent a Stinging Hex his way. "Shut it," he warned.

Draco began thrashing around in earnest, straining the ropes as he shoved with all his might to loosen them. Hermione had never seen anything like what she was witnessing just then. The Stunner she'd sent at her lover should have rendered him unconscious, but it hadn't, and now it looked as if he might just be the first man on record to break through the Confinement Spell.

His brute strength and stamina were definitely not natural. They had to be fuelled by the dark magic flowing through him, for nothing else made sense.

"Draco, can you hear me?" she called out, trying to reach the boy she loved, hoping he could overcome this evil side of himself once again. "Please, fight him! Come back to me."

A vicious struggle ensued, with Malfoy stubbornly refusing to be captured, doing his best to overcome the magic being used to hold him down. From the sidelines, Hermione watched and catalogued his every movement. She held onto Draco's wand in a sweaty grip, hoping she wouldn't have to take more drastic measures to subdue the demon. What she knew was that an _Incarcerous _spell was the magical equivalent of Devil's Snare: it tightened when presented with a struggle until it was banished. In fact, it was that characteristic that Godelot, a dark wizard who lived during the fourteenth century, mimicked when he'd invented the spell – that, according to their textbook for this year's Herbology class, _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_, under the chapter discussing aggressive, non-carnivorous plants. So, although Malfoy was fast and powerful, eventually, if he didn't break free, she knew he would tire.

Sucking on her bottom lip to soothe its bruised skin, she watched and waited… and learned about her enemy.

To her immense relief, soon the fight began to take its toll, and just as the castle bell began clanging the next hour's arrival, Malfoy's great strength finally gave out. He fell back against the stone wall, panting heavily, his eyes screwed up so tight it looked as if he were fighting off a migraine. He shook his head once, twice, and then, with a shudder and a sob, he lay still.

"Draco?" she whispered, daring to hope.

He blinked, and looked up at her, clearly dazed by what had just happened…

…with eyes as light as the arctic sky.

She started forward, but Teddy's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Wait. Make sure before you get too close."

With a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she nodded. "Draco, tell me you love me," she challenged her boyfriend, instinctually knowing the 'other' would never say such a thing to her.

Draco sighed. "I love you," he said, exhaustion colouring his voice. "You can let me out now. He's chained up in my head again, too tired to fight."

He sounded so resigned to his fate that Hermione ached for him. The monster had been restrained, but the cost to summon it had been high. Guilt ate away at her for that.

She glanced at Teddy for his opinion, feeling a bit unsure of her decision-making capabilities after what she'd just done. Nott was considering his friend through narrowed eyes. "I… think we're safe," he judged.

That was good enough for her. With a flick of Draco's wand, she released the spell on her boyfriend. An instant later, she was kneeling at his side, holding him to her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tucking her face into the lee of his shoulder.

Draco didn't return her embrace, but he didn't pull away from her touch either. Instead, he snuggled his cheek against her hair and sighed. "That was stupid of you," he scolded her, but his tone lacked any sort of heat. "I could have-"

"-but you didn't!" she interrupted. "I'm just sorry I provoked you. I had to know what set you – _him_ - off. I think I understand now."

"Fear. Anger. Jealousy," Teddy stated the obvious, ticking off the list by tapping his wand against the outside of his thigh.

"The need to possess _you,_" Draco told her. He shut his eyes as another quiver ran through him. "It's all he could think of: fucking you until you screamed for him to stop. He's totally obsessed with you, Hermione, and he'll hurt anyone who gets in his way of owning you, body and soul – even you, if you deny him."

Hermione thought about what that really meant. "I still don't understand how that side of you could become an entity unto itself. I mean, from what Teddy said, the Mark is supposed to influence a person's worst characteristics, not split their personality down the middle. It didn't do that to your father, did it?" she asked her lover.

He shook his head. "I don't… think so. I'll have to ask my mother for sure. She'd know."

"Maybe you have a predisposition for mental illness," Teddy interjected. "Your Aunt _is_ a loon and your dad… Shite, maybe that sort of thing runs in both sides of your family, and you just got the lucky combination?" He scratched the back of his head as he seemed to consider that. "In any case, at least now we know what sets him off, if not necessarily why."

"We'll need to do research," Hermione stated, her feminine intuition telling her that the answers she needed to save Draco from his evil side lay somewhere between the Dark Mark and the history of his family. "Somehow, we'll find the answers we need."

Hugging her boyfriend to her once more, she pressed her battered lips to his throat and kissed him once over his thrumming pulse. "I'm not going to lose you to him, Draco. No matter what, we'll find a way to save you. I promise."

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED…_**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR:**

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter:**

**_"The Power of One"_**** by Merril Bainbridge**


	35. Ch 35: A Fluttering Hope

**Chapter Thirty-five: A Fluttering Hope**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_****, _Scotland_**

**_December 1, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)_**

After they'd gotten up off the floor, Hermione bullied Draco to sit back in a chair and force-fed him a sandwich, so he could recover his strength. As he ate under her watchful eye, Teddy related a well-considered plan that he and Draco had concocted together to get their hands on the Auror Department's own records regarding the Dark Mark: Hermione would convince Professor Binns to allow her to make-up her less-than-stellar performance in her study of Wizarding Law by writing a treatise on the Wizengamot's role in the Death Eater Trials of the eighties. She would then use the excuse of this special research project to get permission from Professor Dumbledore to visit the Ministry and rifle around in their archives. Teddy would accompany her, Transfigured as her partner in the class, to help the efforts go faster, since they would only have a small window of opportunity and two could work faster and with a greater chance of success than one alone. Draco would remain at school.

Both wizards believed the separation between she and her boyfriend would be necessary, especially after what had just happened with his darker half, but Hermione was worried about being so far away from Draco. What if he had an 'episode' and no one was there to explain what was happening to a person in charge? There was simply no way to know just how far Draco's evil side would take things if he were confronted. What if his 'other' came forward again, and next time seriously hurt another student? It was one thing to have his sharp tongue and potential for physical violence turned on her, for she felt she could handle it with her wand in hand, but some unsuspecting lower classman wouldn't necessarily be so lucky.

Worried about his sexually deviant side in particular, not wanting to see that unleashed on some unsuspecting and innocent witch, Hermione determined she'd have to keep Draco's demon's attention on _her_ somehow, even across the distance from Hogwarts to London…

"Granger?"

She glanced over at her name being called and noted that Teddy was staring at her, expectantly.

"What do you think of the plan?" he asked. "It all hinges on your agreement."

Clucking her tongue behind her teeth, she considered the scheme. "I agree that it's a smart idea to check out the Ministry records on the first generation of Death Eaters and the Dark Mark's influence on them – that is, if it was ever observed and recorded by any of the Aurors involved in their cases. It's the most logical course of action. But, honestly, I'm worried about being so far away from here." She explained to them her hesitancy in leaving Draco during such a vulnerable time for him.

When she finished airing her concerns, an uncomfortable hush settled over the three of them. Draco, she noted, was staring at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand, not really seeing it, his gaze turned inward. "When we were apart, though, it seemed less… interested," he countered. "It was still there, like a… a snarling voice in my head, but lacking the will to do more than snark. That's how it felt, anyway." He raised his eyes to hers. "Something about you brings it to the surface."

"So, like I said a few minutes ago, maybe it's a good thing being separated from each other," Teddy restated. "Maybe that dark side of yours will go back to being almost dormant, D, and that'll buy us the time we need to research a way to get rid of it once and for all." He casually leaned against the professor's desk, parking his bum on its edge and crossing his arms over his chest. "'Cause I don't know about the two of you, but he scared me shitless. I really thought he'd rape you right here in front of me, Granger."

She agreed with his assessment. "Thankfully, we dodged that hex, though," she pointed out.

"Not by much," Draco despondently replied, tossing his unfinished food back onto the plate, a look of self-disgust sliding across his features. "I still hurt you pretty badly, didn't I?"

Hermione reached back and probed the goose egg that had formed at the base of her skull with a gentle touch. Thank Merlin she hadn't been concussed. Still, the spot was very tender and sore.

Draco watched her, clearly swimming in guilt. He reached for her, but stopped with his hand half-way extended between them, unsure. She closed the gap between them and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to let him know she held him blameless. His expression melted into one of regret and a desire for forgiveness as he pressed her palm to his mouth to bestow a kiss, then his cheek in a silent request for her touch.

It occurred to her as she watched him caress her flesh with his lips that Draco didn't just lust for her, and he didn't just love her. He _cherished_ her. That thought floored her.

As had happened the first day he'd confessed his feelings for her, and again that night they'd spent at The Three Broomsticks, a simple, unexpected realization changed everything she'd understood about him. The boundaries of their relationship shifted and stretched yet again, making her acutely aware of his nearness… and the uncomfortable fact that they hadn't made love in ten, _long_ days.

Heat flushed through her system again as she watched him rub cat-like against her hand, causing the lips of her sex to moisten and her mouth to dry. The tease of sexual arousal stimulated her every nerve, melting her resolve and liquefying her bones. Unconsciously, she began to sway forward.

A soft, red glow near her feet abruptly caught her attention. She glanced down to see that she was standing directly on her hair ribbon… and its aura had traveled up her body in slow waves, heightening her body's response to Draco's touch.

A soft exclamation of surprise passed her lips as she bent to retrieve her beloved possession from where it had earlier been pushed to the floor. "How terribly careless of me!" she exclaimed, lifting her foot off of it and scooping it up. After inspecting it to assure it was clean and unsoiled, she used it to tie her hair up into a ponytail, letting the long ends trail down her back with the cascade of her corralled curls. "Much better."

Feeling much more relaxed and curiously pain-free, she turned her attention back to the topic they'd all been discussing, shunting aside her inappropriately-timed desire with a small cough of embarrassment. "In any case, it certainly sounds as though you two spent the last ten days collaborating. I've been busy as well. I've been going through the library for anything I could find to explain the Dark Mark's influence, as I'd already suspected it of being responsible for Draco's personality change."

Her boyfriend and his best friend shared an amused glance at that, and Teddy even erupted into laughter.

Right then and there, she determined that silent 'guy communication' should be outlawed, and secretly vowed that one day, when she was Minister of Magic she'd pass a law to that effect. "Do you mind?" she asked the two of them, exasperated. "I swear, one more male psychic bonding moment today and I'm hexing your entire gender!"

Her two companions tried for contrite, but their lips kept twitching in barely-restrained hilarity.

Hermione sighed, giving up that dog's bone for the moment, focused as she was on them not wasting any more time, as there were still classes that Teddy and Draco had to get to today. "As I was saying, I didn't find anything at all on the Dark Mark's effects and powers. It seems that topic is taboo in the Hogwarts library. However, I _have_ had some success researching this ribbon you gave me." She fingered the trailing ends over her shoulder. "I wondered why you'd had such a negative reaction to it recently – specifically how it affected your left forearm whenever you came into physical contact with it. That seemed odd to me, since you'd been able to touch it without a problem when you first gave it to me, then again after you returned it to me that night in the Hospital Wing. I thought that perhaps the ribbon was reacting to the magic of the Dark Mark, so I went to look up any reference to it, or to the materials used in its construction in the Restricted Section."

"You mean that thing?" Teddy asked, pointing to the accessory in question. "Looks like a normal girly-girl hair product to me. What, is it bespelled or something?"

Hermione held the ends out to him. Crimson lightning flicked against her skin. "Well, just _look _at it. Of course it's magical."

Teddy stepped over to her, bringing his face in close to inspect the ribbon. "I see nothing special about it."

Hermione blinked, confused by his statement. "You really don't?" she asked Teddy, glancing at the shimmering radiance between her fingertips.

Nott shook his head. "Not a thing." He glanced between them. "What do _you_ two see when you look at it?"

"It's like a living, breathing strip of lava," Hermione explained, pulling the ends up to get a closer look. "And occasionally, there are electrical red arcs that spark from it. Yet, it doesn't burn or sting at all. It just… flickers… like it's on fire."

Draco nodded in agreement. "I see the same."

"Interesting," Teddy said, staring at the magical item through a narrowed gaze. "I wonder if anyone else sees what you two do. Have you asked any of your friends, Granger?"

Hermione thought about it. "Ginny's the only one who knows that Draco gave me this as a gift for my birthday, but that's all she knows. And now that you mention it, she's never reacted to it as if it was anything special, either. Neither has anyone else, come to think of it. I mean, I thought for sure in this morning's class that Professor Flitwick would have said something, because it was glowing so brightly then, but he acted as if he didn't see it at all."

"Hmmm." Teddy began pacing, hands behind his back. "You should ask everyone you know what they think about it. Note if they can see it as you do." He stopped and pointed at them. "If no one else can see it, then I'd say it's a spell that activates only for the two of you, although for what specific purpose… that's anyone's guess. Two things _are_ for sure, though: clearly, it doesn't react well to dark magic, since you said it's causing D pain over the area of his Mark, so that must mean it's spelled with its antithesis, white magic."

Hermione was hesitant to actually speak the next thought aloud, but decided that full disclosure was necessary at this point. "Occasionally, it… well, it talks to me in my head, like a form of telepathy. That it had such a connection to my mind bothered me at first, because I thought such behaviour was too similar to that vile diary that had belonged to Voldemort - the one that was in Ginny's possession back in second year."

At the boys' matching perplexed expressions, she explained to them about the events from their past regarding the Chamber of Secrets, and Ginny's relationship with the evil, magical journal.

"But, the voice I've heard has only ever been helpful, and it's always encouraged me to be with Draco."

Draco sat up a little straighter on his stool. "Is it a woman's voice in your head?" he asked. "She's got a foreign accent, and tells you when I'm nearby."

Hermione's jaw dropped a fraction in surprise. "You hear her, too?"

He nodded. "Like you said, it's only occasionally. If I come into a room and you're there, it tells me where you are. I feel this irresistible impulse to look as it calls my attention, and every time I do, there you are."

"It's the same for me," she admitted. "I feel compelled to find you whenever you're not near me, as well. That day I found you in the forest, lying on the ground, it was the ribbon guiding me to you. My feet just moved without my input. It was as if you were pulling me towards you at the same time it was forcing me forward. There was a sense of urgency to it, too, like it knew you were in trouble and needed my help."

Teddy whistled. "How'd you get your hands on something that powerful?"

Hermione nudged her chin in Draco's direction. "He gave it to me for my birthday, back in September. But, I'd lost it immediately afterwards. It turned out he had it all along. I didn't get it back from him until the beginning of November."

"Did it speak to you while it was out of your hands?" Teddy asked her.

Hermione shook her head. "Not a peep."

"If you can recall, when did it start talking to you?" Teddy pressed.

Hermione thought back. When had she first heard the woman speaking to her? It had to have been that night she'd been in the Hospital Wing, when she'd woken to find Draco sitting by her bedside, out after curfew. She'd tried to give the ribbon back to him then, but he'd stressed that it had been a gift for her alone and he wouldn't take it back. After he'd left, that's when the voice had spoken to her for the first time. She related that information to Draco and Teddy.

Nott clicked his tongue in thought. "What did it say to you, exactly? Try to remember."

"It said, _'__You were meant for each other.'_"

Teddy turned to Draco. "And when did you first hear it? What did it say to you?"

Draco's face scrunched up in concentration as he sifted through his memories. "The first time I ever saw it, it said my name and caught my attention. It only said my name once, though, and nothing more. At the time, I thought I'd imagined it, but now…" He shook his head. "Aside from that, it hadn't spoken again until this year, and it only began to talk to me after Hermione and I met in The Three Broomsticks earlier this month. I came into the pub, and the same voice called my attention to her, telling me she was there and to look in a certain direction for her. It's said the same thing a few more times to me after that, but it wasn't until we were together at The Three Broomsticks that it actually mentioned that what we had was destiny."

"Really?" Hermione asked, astonished by that revelation. "It actually mentioned that specific word?"

He nodded. "It said something to the effect of 'she's yours, and you're hers', and stated that we belonged to each other because it was our destiny." Shifting on the stool, Hermione thought he seemed a bit uncomfortable with discussing the idea of fate. "Sounds like something that loon, Trelawney, might say, honestly - like we're written in the stars or something."

Hermione turned that idea over in her head, but dismissed it very quickly as ludicrous. Everyone knew Divination was a bunch of nonsense. A person's destiny was not determined by a configuration of dying suns millions of light years away… was it?

No, there had to be a rational explanation for the ribbon's influence upon them both, as well as for the voice that came out of it.

The voice… It was female. They'd both agreed on that fact.

"Draco, you said the ribbon was woven by the Aes Sidhe," she pointed out.

"Yeah, so?"

She internally sighed. For such a clever boy, sometimes Draco could be a bit dim. "So, the Aes Sidhe are known to be an all-female race. Might one of them be the voice we're hearing?"

He frowned, deliberating over her statement. "Maybe. Or it could just as easily be the Kirin, since the ribbon _is _made from its mane." He gave a casual shrug. "Or it might just be some clever witch who dipped the thing in a lust potion and cast a modified Protean Charm on it, and is now fucking with us both. How are we supposed to know who were talking to without a name to go on?"

Hermione glared at him, peeved that not only had he seemed to have recovered in record time from his brief bout of woolly-headedness, but also that he'd had the effrontery to shoot down her perfectly logical possibility with sensible fact. "I hate to admit it, but you have a point."

Draco's smirk tugged to life at the side of his cheek and rose to prominence. "Did I just hear you agree that my argument trumps yours?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You may have, yes, but I wouldn't push your luck by bragging about it."

His grin widened. "Wouldn't dare."

"Yes, you would. You're a wicked, little rascal at heart, Draco Malfoy, and everyone knows it."

He positively beamed. "That's not the only place I'm wicked, kitten…"

Teddy wrapped his knuckles twice on the desk to get their attention. "Sorry to interrupt what would certainly have been a stimulating round of brazen sexual innuendo but can we focus here, people? I do have classes this afternoon. I don't know much about the Aes Sidhe, and zip-all about the Kirin. Clue me in?"

Hermione considered him for a moment. "That's right. I'd forgotten that you dropped Care of Magical Creatures last year."

Nott looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Yeah, I'd heard Thestrals were going to be on the curriculum."

She knew Teddy was one of the few in their class to be able to see the mysterious creatures, which meant he'd witnessed someone die. She wondered who he'd lost, and how that person had met their end…

Scooting a nearby chair closer to Draco, she gingerly sat down in the seat. Her back was just a little sore, although the pain wasn't near what she'd expected it should have been given how roughly she'd been tossed about. "Well, one of the things covered in the textbook near the end of the term last year in Hagrid's class was magical creature theory, including the story of the mythological triad: the Dragon, the Phoenix, and the Kirin," she began. "They are, according to Eastern Wizarding philosophy, the avatars of magic in our universe, creating the perfect triangle of power, bridging the gap between Magical Beings and Magical Creatures."

"The Dragon –not to be mistaken with _dragons_, which are reptilian animals belonging to the genus _Draconis_– is supposedly a god-like being, rumoured to have once been the first human witch in existence. The story goes she was a woman of great intellect and magical ability, so much so that she was eventually able to transform herself into an immortal deity by conquering the Dark Arts and learning the secret of arresting death. She left the earth for the heavens after her transformation, preferring to dwell within the darkness of the cosmos."

Shifting in her chair, Hermione continued her lecture while simultaneously attempting to work out a rather sore spot along the lower left side of her spine by rubbing it with the heel of her hand.

"The Phoenix –not to be mistaken with the magical species of bird of the same name– is said to have been the first human wizard in existence, and he allegedly turned himself into an immortal deity by conquering the White Arts and learning the secret of eternal youth. Like the Dragon, he left the earth for the heavens, but chooses to dwell in the dawn's light instead.

"The two are the basis for the Yin-Yang theory in Asian Taoist philosophy – that is, all things in the universe have their counter duality – not to act as opposing forces, per se, but as _complimentary_ ones. Darkness and light define each other. You can't comprehend what one is without first understanding how the other works, and vice-versa. That same dichotomy is exampled in something as simple as… say, hot and cold, for instance."

Draco nodded, seeming to catch on. "Fire and ice."

"High and low," she added.

"Love and hate."

"Exactly."

Teddy rubbed a tired hand over his face. "All of this is nice, but what does it have to do with the Kirin or Aes Sidhe?"

Hermione massaged the stiffness from the back of her neck as she replied, "The Kirin are the middle ground between the Dragon and the Phoenix. Our class textbook stated that they were the first magical creatures that were born sentient, predating even the Sphinx. Although the Dragon and the Phoenix are just mythological characters invented to demonstrate a philosophical theory, the Kirin are, in fact, quite real."

"And I bet you can quote a surfeit of information about them – all verbatim," Teddy teased.

She nodded, and then instantly regretted the jerking motion. "The text stated that Kirin are a chimerical breed of animal. Their physical form is a bizarre cross between horses and stags, yet they have dragon-like scales surrounded by fur. They are the most endangered magical creatures in there world, as there are only two of them left – that, according to the Japanese government, who care for them on a special reserve somewhere in Kyoto. The "Ki" is the male, and the "Rin" is the female, but their names are combined when you speak of them, as if they were one creature, because they are a mated pair. Again, Yin-Yang theory.

"Technically, the Kirin are defined as Magical Beasts, not Magical Beings." She frowned at that, disturbed by that glaring social injustice. "Did you know that no one can properly explain to me why they haven't yet been granted Magical Being status, given their intelligence levels? I mean, none of the literature on them gives a reason, and they are a perfectly peaceful species – pacifists, it's even been said. So, I simply don't understand why the Ministry-"

Draco reached out and gripped her hand in a gentle squeeze to stop her tirade. "Although it turns me on watching you get riled up over a cause, Granger, maybe it's best to stay on topic this time."

Embarrassed that she _had_ been working up to a rant of epic proportions, she cleared her throat. "Quite right. Yes, well, the Kirin are further considered the most magically powerful, non-humanoid creatures in the world, thus their membership as the third member of the mythical triad of power. Asian tradition hails them as harbingers of prosperity and luck, and there's even a belief that their appearance signifies the coming of great change. That's all I could find out about them, not just from the textbook for class, but also in Fredreck Spohr's_ Fantastical Beasts of the East, _when I checked it out at the library to learn more out of curiosity."

Teddy seemed to mull over her words. "So, your ribbon is made from the mane of a Kirin, and the weavers of the ribbon were these Aes Sidhe, you said. Who are they?"

She glanced at Draco, the unasked questions of whether he knew the answer to Teddy's question, and if so, if he'd like to step up to share the teacher's pulpit in her gaze. He smirked at her and shook his head. "You're the brilliant one here, Granger." He made an exaggerated sweeping motion with his arm. "The floor is all yours."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed in resignation at her boyfriend's cheekiness, and wished just then that she had a glass of water for her parched mouth. "According to Edwardus Lima's _The Definitive Guide to Fairies, Sprites, and Pixies_, the Aes Sidhe are the royalty of the Fairy realm, also called the High Fae," she said. "They are a matriarchal society, ruled by a Queen, and like the Centaurs and Merpeople, they've sworn off interference in the human world - even to the extent of denying their status as Magical Beings as well. They are historically shown as being very powerful in Charms, Divination, and Curse magic.

"With you so far," Teddy confirmed.

"They are a very secretive species, in general," she continued. "Their life spans are unknown, for instance, and no one knows exactly how many there are in existence, as they rarely interact with human society. One interesting fact Lima's reference book _did_ point out, however, was that there are no recorded documents confirming a sighting of a male Aes Sidhe ever – not one reference in the whole of Wizarding history. His notes state that he conducted extensive research into the ancient archives at the Libraries of Alexandria and the Vatican both, personally spoke to the mummy of Amenhotep, transcribed the hieroglyphs of the Olmec in Meso-America, and even travelled to China to read the original text of the _Shiji_, or _Records of the Grand Historian_, written by Sima Qian, seeking any mention or even an allusion to a male Aes Sidhe across the ancient societies of the globe. He could find none. He postulated that the males of the species had somehow died out thousands of years ago.

"In any case, one thing _is_ certain by his description of them: the High Fae are nothing like the pixie-like fairies that are trapped and used to decorate our Yule tree by Professor Flitwick every year. For one, Lima stated that the Aes Sidhe don't have wings, like their smaller cousins. He described them as being more humanoid than Sprite. Two, they're as tall as humans, not the diminutive little nymphs we learned about in Lockhart's class, second year. Three, they don't glow, although they are described as having rather pale skin and hair, as well as grey eyes, and are noted for being uncommonly beautiful-"

Her words clogged in her throat as, at just that moment, she cut to Draco and made a queer connection between what she was saying and what she was seeing.

_Tall. Pale skin and hair. Grey eyes. Uncommonly beautiful…_

_Fae._

The ribbon in her hair warmed, shooting tingling fingers of electricity up and down her spine, setting her heart to racing. A red glow throbbed in her peripheral vision in silent affirmation of her shocking suspicion. As if she'd discovered and matched-up the long-lost mate to a cosmic puzzle piece, that odd sensation of _rightness_ overcame her, much as it had the first time she and her Vinewood wand had met back in Mister Ollivander's Shoppe when she'd been eleven-years-old.

"Oh my God!"

"What?" Draco asked, alarmed by her reaction.

It took her three tries to get any words past her teeth. "Draco, how far back can you trace your lineage?"

He tweaked an eyebrow at her, as if to ask, _'what strange thoughts are rolling around in your head now, Granger?'_ but refrained from actually voicing the question. "We have a tapestry in our house that shows the last five generations of Malfoys at any one time."

"I'd like to see a picture of that tapestry, if you can get it for me," she requested.

Draco considered her appeal with a frown. "Why, and what does this have to do with the Aes Sidhe?"

"Tall, pale, and beautiful," she quoted Lima. "Don't you see? The connection between you and the ribbon was right in front of us all this time, and neither of us saw it." She waved her hand at him. "It almost seems impossible to believe, but… it's right here if one just _looks_. I mean, you could almost pass as a clone of your father, only a much younger version. I'm willing to bet he looked a lot like his father, too, and so on back."

By his expression, Draco was clearly frustrated by her cryptic comments. "What are you on about? Of course I look like my father - I'm his only son. And yes, he looks like my grandfather, Abraxas, because he was an only son, too. We're Malfoys and our traits breed strong. What's that got to do with the ribbon?"

Hermione sighed in resignation, knowing he wasn't going to take well what she was about to tell him. "The Aes Sidhe's physical traits breed strong, too, hence the reason they are described in such a specific manner in Lima's book: 'tall of stature, with hair the colour of natural sunlight, eyes grey and as fathomless as moonlight, and skin as pale as winter's first snow.'"

She watched the emotions play across Draco's face: surprise morphed into incredulity, then finally settled on anger. "What you're implying is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he snapped.

"Is it?" she asked. "The Aes Sidhe are supposedly comprised solely of _females_, and the belief is all the males died out _thousands_ of years ago. How could they possibly procreate under such conditions? They can't be asexual reproducers, nor could they be heterogamous –able to switch from asexual to sexual reproduction at will- because no species of pixie, fairy, or sprite on the planet propagates in such a manner. I doubt very much that they would deviate that far from members of their own family tree in such things. It _might _be possible for them to undergo some sort of Thelytokous parthenogenesis, I suppose, but again I sincerely doubt it, since none of their closest cousins utilize such methods, either – not even their five-inch high cousins who lay eggs. Also, as the Aes Sidhe are specifically designated as _female_ by Lima, not hermaphroditic, that indicates that they are split into two distinct genders and therefore reproduce allogamously, like humans. But, if there are no males left of their own species, who do they turn to for mating purposes?"

She pointed to the three of them in a circling loop of her hand.

"With us. Humans. We're physically the closest in the magical world to them, just as we are with veela, giants, and hags. I suspect we're all on the same clade of the phylogenetic track, in fact. I bet if I were to genetically type the various Magical Beings' DNA, we could-"

"Granger, what in the hell are you talking about?" Draco cut her off with a growl. "You're speaking Muggle gibberish again."

She waved off giving an explanation, realizing it would take too long to properly describe the disciplines of taxonomy or genetics to her companions, who had lived exclusively in the magical world all their lives. Magic was their religion, not science.

"The important things to take away from Lima's essay are: one, he is clear that the male Aes Sidhe are believed to be extinct, and two, that female Aes Sidhe all have the same physical characteristics in common that I've already mentioned. Ergo, they must all breed tall, pale, and uniquely beautiful children with grey eyes… just like the Malfoys do. That sort of thing simply _cannot _be a coincidence, Draco. The cosmic odds are distinctly not in favour of such a specific set of similarities happening randomly between like-species. Therefore, it's more likely that somewhere in your family line, perhaps as close as your great-grandmother on your paternal side, you have Aes Sidhe blood."

Draco scoffed. "That's… impossible. I am _not_ related to fairies!"

"Wait just a moment, D. Let's be open to entertaining all possibilities," Teddy suddenly refuted, an assessing glint in his eye. "Think about what Granger just said, think about how the magical ribbon that's been talking to the two of you was woven by the Aes Sidhe, and then consider your own family's unique set of physical traits. Maybe somewhere in your family line there were Sidhe influences. Hell, hypothetically, they could exist throughout _all _of the pure-blood family lines, one way or another, since most of us are taller than average, and a disturbing large number of our social circle have a variation of blond hair and grey or blue-grey eyes. You ever notice that? The Greengrasses, Adian Pucey, Lavender Brown, that Burke girl in second year, the elderly Gamps, Morag McDougal, Ernie Macmillan, the Melifluas, the Rosiers, the Urquarts, and that bastard, Yaxley - all blond, all light-eyed, all pure-bloods."

"I think you're full of shite, the both of you." Draco shook his head in denial and crossed his arms in a protective gesture. "Those traits could easily be explained away by the interbreeding between pure-blood families for centuries."

"Perhaps, but it doesn't explain why you had an Aes Sidhe-crafted item in your possession, or why it reacts so strongly to you, its original owner, and not to Teddy or, as far as I can determine, anyone else but me – the recipient of your gift," Hermione countered. "Where did you get it?"

As if a curtain had fallen over his features to hide his emotions away, Draco's face went blandly neutral. "I stole it from Borgin and Burkes when I was ten-years-old. There was a description card underneath it in the glass case where it was displayed."

Hermione wasn't really shocked to hear this confession. Harry and Ron had told her all about the events in the Slytherin common room when they'd taken the Polyjuice Potion and impersonated Crabbe and Goyle in their second year to find out if Draco knew the identity of the heir of Slytherin. Her boyfriend had stolen things then, too. "Okay, but why this item, specifically?" she challenged, bringing the ends of the ribbon around for them to see. It glowed with a gentle red aura between her fingertips, staining them with berry-coloured light. "There are plenty of other things in that awful place to take that have much greater power and aren't behind glass."

Teddy raised an eyebrow, clearly curious as to how she'd know such a thing. She shrugged. "I've been inside the store once, for a moment or two," she told him. Embarrassed by that admission, and recalling _why _she'd been in such a horrid shoppe in the first place, Hermione tried to deflect by turning back to the topic on-hand. "In any case, why steal the ribbon at all, given how rich your family is, Draco? Why risk getting caught a sneak-thief when you could just have easily asked your father to buy it for you?"

Draco's lips turned down at the corners and he ran a nervous hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back from his face. "I'm not sure," he admitted somewhat reluctantly. "I told you it called my name and caught my attention. The second I laid eyes on it, I knew that it was meant to be _mine._ The fact that Borgin and Burke had it… angered me."

"I've never heard of an enchanted item designed to affect only a certain, specific individual, much less call out their name," she stated. "Howlers and Ministry reprimand notices are about as close as it gets, but they're not sentient; they're simply a charmed recording, sent from one person to another. The ribbon is distinctly different, like the Weasley's car." At Teddy and Draco's obvious befuddlement, she reminded them, "You remember. During our second year, Ron and Harry accidentally crashed a flying Muggle car into the Whomping Willow at the start of term, seriously damaging both the vehicle and the tree. Professor Sprout was irate, and Ron's wand was broken as a result of the crash."

Draco's smirk slowly crept up his cheek. "Ah, yes, the Slug-Vomiting Charm that backfired." He chortled with devilish delight. "How could I ever forget something as brilliant as Weasley splagging a colourful array of slimy gastropods all over Potter's shoes?"

Hermione gave him a severe frown and pinched the back of his hand. "If you remember that incident, then I'm positive you can recall exactly _why _he attempted to hex you that time, too."

Her boyfriend lost his amusement in an instant. "Hell." Cupping her cheeks, he leaned into her, pressing their foreheads together. "Yeah, I remember. It was the first time I called you a Mud-… well, _that _word." He let out a disheartened sigh. "I'm sorry for that."

"I didn't even know what that word meant then," she admitted. "Of course, after it was explained to me, I wanted to hex your foul tongue from your mouth."

His lips twitched. "Think of all the fun you would have missed out on if you'd actually done it," he replied with a naughty grin.

Rolling her eyes again, Hermione pulled back enough to give them both a little space. Getting close to Draco was dangerous for her sanity with her libido continuing to throb with want throughout her body. "The point is there is most definitely a self-awareness and intelligence in the ribbon. It's not a mindless charm. And anyway, if you were so jealous of the ribbon's ownership, Draco, then why give it away to me all these years later?"

Draco threw his hands up into the air. "I don't know! Like I said, I just felt like… well, like I was _supposed_ to give it to you."

"But why me?" she wondered aloud. "Why not Pansy, or some other pure-blood witch? Of all the girls in school you have given it to, I'm the least likely candidate."

Teddy shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't agree, Granger. You're actually the ideal girlfriend material, so I get why he'd want you to have it. You're wicked smart, attractive, bold, but well-mannered, and magically powerful. You also have a heart of gold, lending a helping hand or offering your free time to others in need. Frankly, you're entirely too honest and nice for this Slytherin bastard." He hooked a thumb in Draco's direction. "If it wasn't for the blood prejudice his family lives to dwell upon, you'd probably have ended up being courted by the Malfoys for a pre-arranged marriage with their son, upon his coming of age. I think D chose well, personally." He grinned at his friend. "Lucky git."

Draco's blush reached his ears, but his silvery-gaze was unwavering as he agreed with his friend's appraisal.

"I meant that he and I didn't get along until quite recently," Hermione said, blushing to the roots of her hair. "We've fought like cats and dogs all the years we've known each other."

"In some circles, that kind of thing might be considered foreplay," Teddy teased. "But seriously, you and D have a destiny together, remember?" He kicked the stool Draco sat upon. "The ribbon told you so." He pointed at Hermione. "And you said the Aes Sidhe were into Divination. It's not my favourite subject, and everyone knows that ninety-nine percent of what Trelawney says is utter nonsense, but I have to admit that Firenze has said a few things that made me think there was something to the idea of a cosmic plan. If the ribbon was charmed to life by some powerful branch of Aes Sidhe magic when it was woven, it might just believe you two were fated to be together because it's been endowed with knowledge about Divination and sees something the rest of us don't."

Hermione reached out and grasped the ends of the ribbon once more, letting its softness glide between her fingertips, fascinated by its warm, cherry glow. "But why was it important for him to give it to me _this_ year?" she asked. "What changed so much in his life-?"

"The Mark," Draco abruptly interrupted, staring down at his left forearm with disgust. "Everything changed after I took it. I started feeling… different after the Dark Lord gave it to me."

"Different how, exactly?" she asked.

"Disturbing dreams," he admitted. "I'd see myself standing in front of a mirror, covered in blood and smiling. Sometimes, the world burned down around me, but I'd just stand there and watch, grinning. And there's this weird squirming under the skin of my arm when I've been awake, like an itch that won't go away coupled with something trying to claw its way out." He looked a bit green at the thought.

Teddy huffed. "Yeah, well, that's obviously your darker twin coming to life and wanting its freedom."

Draco nodded, but his unfocused gaze told her that he was suddenly lost inside his mind and not paying too much attention to his friend's observances. "You know, after stealing it, I'd kept the ribbon in a box, hidden in my closet and forbade the house-elves from cleaning there to avoid it being found," he said in a thin, soft voice. "Two distinct times this summer, before school and after taking the Mark, I woke up sleepwalking. I'd actually gotten out of my bed and gone into the closet. I woke up staring at the corner where the ribbon was concealed. And as I was getting ready to leave for King's Cross, I had this overwhelming urge to bring the ribbon with me, so I took it down from its hiding spot and shoved it to the bottom of my trunk, under my things." His attention cut to Hermione, and with reluctance, drifted downwards to where her fingers were rubbing the soft, crimson strip. "I was supposed to give it to you."

"Did the voice tell you that?" she asked in a hushed tone.

He shook his head. "I just… knew. When I heard about your birthday, I knew I was supposed to give it to you then."

"Why me?" she asked again, stumped by the simple question. Why would the ribbon want to find its way into _her_ hands? What role did she play in the strange production of Draco's transformation as a result of the Mark's influence upon him? She'd told the sadistic, cruel side of his personality that she intended on finding a way to destroy it, so was that her destined task? Was she meant to be Draco's saviour? Was that why the ribbon reacted whenever he was nearby, why it ignited lustful and heartfelt feelings in them for each other whenever they touched, and why it spoke to her of their fates intertwined? Was her entire relationship with Draco simply a means to an end for the ribbon's unknown agenda?

The truth was, Teddy may have some modicum of faith in a universal grand plan for every person on the planet, but up until recently, Hermione hadn't believed in destiny – was still having a hard time believing in it, despite the strange and inexplicable pull she felt to Draco. The conviction that personal choice dictated one's actions had always guided her reasoning in the past. It had been the foundation of her entire life's paradigm… until this year.

The first crisis to shake up her world view was the Prophecy that governed Harry's life. Honestly, she believed that Voldemort's reaction to Trelawney's prediction had been nothing more than a case of circular cause and consequence. In other words, if Voldemort hadn't heard the Prophecy to begin with, he most likely wouldn't have hunted down Harry's parents with such ferocity, determined to end the life of the child who was predicted to destroy him. That wasn't to say the evil wizard wouldn't have tried, and maybe even succeeded, at killing the Potters at some point during the First Wizarding War, but his reasons for specifically targeting Harry, wouldn't have existed, and so it's quite possible that James and Lily may have even survived had it not been for that blasted forecast.

And yet, so many witches and wizards –people she believed to be of reason and many even of a scientific bent- believed in Divination as a legitimate branch of magical study. The Centaurs based their entire civilization around the movement of heavenly bodies. The Sphinx were said to derive their riddles by staring up into the sky and finding celestial inspiration. Even the Aes Sidhe seemed to respect and practice the discipline, if Lima was to be believed.

Given all that, was it possible that the ribbon knew something about the future, and was trying to warn them?

"Why _me?_" Draco asked back.

Yes, why had her boyfriend been targeted at ten-years-old to steal the magical ribbon in the first place? Had it possibly known he might have need of its guidance someday?

Maybe it was throwing them together so they could work as a team towards either stopping or causing something to happen… But if that were the case, why would the ribbon now not like Draco, when it had actively sought him out years ago? Was it because of his splintering personality?

The glow of the ribbon began to dim in her peripheral vision, she noticed. She let out a relieved breath, as whatever magic it used had a tendency, she noticed, to increase her levels of sexual excitement.

"Good points, both," Teddy said. "You realize, however, that until we actually find any sort of connection between the ribbon, the Aes Sidhe, and/or the Kirin to the Malfoys that we're not going to be able to answer either question, right? We don't have enough information yet… hence the reason we need to take that trip to the Ministry and dive into their records."

"And get a copy of Draco's family's lineage," Hermione added.

Her boyfriend shook his head, still not convinced. "This is ridiculous, all of it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that, meeting his scepticism head on. Her head was really starting to ache in earnest now and she put a hand to her temple, rubbing it. "Is it? Aren't _we_? I'm having a difficult time being convinced about destiny, too, but the evidence is difficult to ignore. Although I'm loath to admit it, maybe we _are_ just pawns in a bigger game going on here between forces we have little-to-no knowledge about or can control."

"I don't like that idea," Draco growled. "I don't like the thought that something else can tell me how to act, or think, or feel. I'm not a fucking puppet!"

"Calm yourself," Teddy advised him, dropping a supportive hand onto Draco's shoulder. "I'd rather not have another run-in with Psycho Boy, if you don't mind."

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

The glow of the ribbon abruptly ceased, as if it had been wholly depleted of energy. With its passage, the warm, comforting feeling that had been sustaining her since she bent to retrieve it from the floor instantly dissolved. A massive migraine unexpectedly erupted behind her eyelids, shooting tendrils of fiery electric current up and down her spine. Gasping from the pain, she scrunched her eyes up and gripped her head, even as she shot to her feet in an uncontrollable, automatic reaction to the hurt.

Draco was suddenly there, holding her to his chest, his supportive arms tight around her waist. "Shite! Are you okay, baby? You hit your head pretty hard against the desk earlier. I knew we should have taken you to see Pomfrey then." He cursed under his breath.

As Hermione made to nod in agreement, spots of white flashed behind her closed lids and weakness assailed her limbs. Her knees gave out, her back screaming in pain as she crumbled in Draco's hold. He caught her, of course, and with a bend and a pull, had her up in his arms bridal-style a moment later.

"Ted, get our stuff," she heard him instruct his friend, and then she was being whisked away by his quick stride.

Resting her head against her boyfriend's shoulder with her lids shuttered, trusting him to care for her, her consciousness began slipping away. Her last thought before she drifted into the inky realm of oblivion was that she was getting very tired of waking up in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing.

**X~~~~~X**

She woke up to see Draco hovering over her, a tight, worried expression slashed across his handsome features.

Gods, he was good looking. Whether he had Aes Sidhe blood in him or not, he was definitely Fae-like. She could stare at him all day and never get tired of the chore.

Madam Pomfrey abruptly appeared in her vision, blocking everything else out as she leaned in until their noses almost touched. With an indelicate hand, the nurse pried open one of Hermione's eyelids as wide as it could go and brought the lighted tip of her wand closer to examine her. "Fully conscious and completely aware. Good," the old healer stated with a satisfied nod.

Releasing her hold on Hermione, she reached into a small doctor's bag that rested on the bed at her side –an ugly, black leather satchel that appeared to have survived the Victorian Era mostly intact- and withdrew a dark blue bottle of some unknown potion and a metal spoon. "Open your mouth for me, Miss Granger," the matron requested, carefully un-stoppering and tilting the bottle to measure a thick, cherry-coloured liquid into the spoon's bowl.

Hermione obeyed, and the medicine was shoved into her mouth without further ado. She grimaced at the disgusting flavor, but obediently swallowed it down.

"That should help with the pain," the old nurse stated as she re-stoppered the bottle, and put both it and the spoon away in the bag. She held up her wand once more and waved it over Hermione. "Now this for the bruising and bump."

A soothing healing spell washed over Hermione, and instantly, all of her pain abated. She sighed with relief.

"As for this… This did not happen from a fall down the stairs. Are these teeth marks?" Madam Pomfrey asked, fingering the bite wound over her neck.

Hermione winced and opened her mouth, unsure of what story she intended to make up to cover for the hard bite that Draco's 'other half' had given her earlier that day. It turned out she need not have panicked, for her boyfriend was perfectly capable of fabricating a story on the fly.

"She was bitten by one of Professor Hagrid's Jarveys earlier today, when it escaped its enclosure. I think maybe the loss of blood contributed to her dizziness, and that's why she fell down the stairs."

Madam Pomfrey looked a bit unconvinced. "Are you sure about that? The puncture wounds look to have been made by flatter teeth, and the shape of the bite wound is quite large. Are you positive this was done by a Jarvey?" At Draco's solemn nod, the older witch accepted him at his word. "I suppose it could have been done by one of Hagrid's freakish hybrids." She _tsk'd._ "Why Dumbledore lets that man… Honestly! In any case, Jarveys are vicious creatures. I'll get some antiseptic and cleanse the wound, then bandage it. I'll just be a moment."

The woman took her bag as she headed out towards her desk area, presumably to retrieve the needed supplies.

Hermione glanced up at Draco, torn between wanting to reprimand him for how easily he could spew false information without a trace of guilt and kissing him for such a clever ruse. "You're the God of Liars, you know," she murmured, with a weak smile.

Draco grinned down at her and winked. "I'm Slytherin."

They had no more time to talk as the nurse returned. With nimble fingers, the woman cleaned up Hermione's neck and taped a large square of gauze to the wound, providing instruction on the proper caretaking of the injury to avoid scarring and infection. She left them soon afterwards.

Hermione's headache and pains were now gone, thanks to the medicine she'd been forced to take, and so she felt almost as right as rain again. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the cot and got her feet under her. Draco helped to steady her, but his touch was very hesitant, as if he was afraid of causing her harm.

"Where's Teddy?" she asked, as he shouldered her satchel and walked at her side all the way back up to Gryffindor's Tower.

"Class," he replied. His tone was terse and his shoulders stiff. "Why does it matter where he is?"

She glanced over and up at him, noting his heavy frown, and wondering the reason for it. Surely he wasn't jealous?

She gripped his hand in hers, wanting to reassure him that there was no intimate reason for asking after his friend. "I wanted the three of us to plan out how I should approach Professor Binns, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Dumbledore with the idea of leaving school grounds for the special project. I'll need to practice what I'm going to say, or I'll be so nervous, I'll muck it up. We should brainstorm together."

He seemed a little less tense after her explanation, but as evidenced by the very loose grip he held on her hand, he was still a bit hesitant to behave as if everything we perfectly all right with them again. His eyes remained troubled, too, and she wondered if he was feeling guilt over his earlier loss of control. "We'll get together and do that tomorrow," he said. "You should take a hot bath to relax your muscles and rest tonight. Go to bed early. Today was hard on you."

At the Fat Lady's portrait, he passed her satchel off to her. She expected him to kiss her good-night on the mouth, but his lips angled for her cheek instead. The kiss was chaste. "Rest and get better," he urged her again, lightly caressing his fingers against hers before pulling away. "Sweet dreams, Hermione."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, his long, quick stride taking him out of her view in seconds.

She waited to enter her common room until the sound of his footsteps had faded, hoping until the very last that Draco would change his mind, come back, and snog her senseless, as she wanted. She found she was very disappointed that she didn't get her wish.

With a sinking feeling taking up residence in the pit of her belly, she dragged her heart-sore self through the abandoned common room and up to her bedroom. Dropping her satchel on top of her trunk, she lay on her bed on her side and reached for the ribbon, tugging it free of her hair. Caressing its incredibly soft and silky length, she wondered what had happened to make it go dark earlier.

_Who are you,_ she asked it. _Why won't you properly talk to me? Can't you tell me something more?_

The voice of the ribbon didn't reply, and it remained dull, its magical fire extinguished for the moment.

_I wish I knew who you were and what you want with us,_ she told it. _I wish you could fix Draco. I'm scared for him… for us._

Hot tears leaked from her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. She brushed at them, and pressed the ribbon to her heart with a deep sigh. She would take a small nap – just an hour or two. Her sleep had been so poor for the last ten days because of her break-up with Draco, and she was really very tired, so it would be good for her to try to recover her strength, as her boyfriend had hinted. Maybe later she'd go down to dinner.

Ugh, no. The very thought of smelling food just then, much less consuming it, made her positively queasy.

What a topsy-turvy day she'd had. First, she'd made up with Draco, which had led to a public row with Harry and Ron. Then there had been a rather long, but entertaining Charms lesson to sit through, before she'd been dragged down to the dungeon where all of those revelations and plans had been made in the empty potions classroom...

The memory of Draco's black eyes and cruel smirk made her shiver with dread. His demonic side was quite terrifying, honestly. He'd been so incredibly strong, and savage, and… highly-sexed. He'd forced his kiss upon her as she'd lain pinned beneath his hard, merciless body, and he'd been totally aroused at the fact that he had her right where he wanted her. There had been no hiding that fact, as his erection had stroked with wicked intent between her thighs even as he'd smirked into her mouth.

Malfoy would have raped her. She had absolutely no doubts about that now; had she been truly defenseless, he would have forced himself on her… and the brutality of that act would have shattered her. It would definitely have unhinged something in Draco, too.

_Please don't let that… that… evil thing take him,_ she prayed, closing her eyes and gripping the ribbon tighter to her chest. _Please help me find the strength to save Draco. I'll do anything. I'll even accept it if this is all just some game set-up by Fate. Even if these feelings we share are being manipulated by magic. Even if once this is all over, he walks away from me. I'll accept the consequences of it all. Just let me save him. _

Between her fingers, a red aura slowly pulsed back to life, bringing with it warmth and a fluttering hope in her chest.

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED…_**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE:**

**Library of Alexandria – A library constructed approximately 3rd century B.C.E. and established in Alexandria in Egypt, considered the largest and most significant library in the ancient world. **

**Library of the Vatican – Also called the Vatican Library. One of the oldest still-standing and in use libraries in the world, located in Vatican City and owned by the Roman Catholic Church. It contains some of the most significant collections of historical texts (~75,000 codices from throughout history and from a variety of cultures and civilizations).**

**Amenhotep – Son of Hapu. The chief scribe of the Pharaoh Amenhotep III in Egypt (~1380 B.C.E.), and a famous scholar for his times.**

**The Olmec – First major civilization in Mexico (!1500 B.C.E.-400 B.C.E.). This civilization laid the foundations for other Meso-American cultures, such as the Mayans and the Aztecs.**

**Sima Qian – (~145 B.C.E.-86 B.C.E.) A Prefect of the Grand Scribes during the Han Dynasty in China. Famous for writing _Shiji_, or _Records of the Grand Historian_, which was a general history of China going back 2,000 years before his time. His work laid the foundation for Chinese historiography.**

**Aes ****Sidhe (pronounced ****_"_**_**ays shee-uh**_**_"_****) - The Irish ****Gaelic****term for a ****supernatural****race in ****Irish mythology****and ****Scottish mythology****comparable to****fairies****or ****elves****. They are said to live underground in fairy mounds, across the western sea, or in an invisible world that coexists with the world of humans. In folk belief and practice, the Aes Sidhe are often appeased with offerings, and care is taken to avoid angering or insulting them. The Aes Sidhe generally described as stunningly beautiful. Aes Sidhe are sometimes seen as fierce guardians of their abodes – whether a fairy hill, a fairy ring, a special tree (often a ****hawthorn****) or a particular ****loch****or wood.**

**The Aes Sidhe nor the Kirin appear in the "Harry Potter" universe. For the sake of this fic, I have said they are part of that universe.**

**Fredreck Spohr's_ Fantastical Beasts of the East _– A book I invented for this fic. Not canon. **

**Edwardus Lima's _The Definitive Guide to Fairies, Sprites, and Pixies _- A book I invented for this fic. Not canon. The author of this text is canon, however, in the "Harry Potter" universe. I simply borrowed him as the author of this text for the story.**

**Heterogamous reproduction – The ability for a female of a species to ****switch between sexual reproduction and parthenogenesis as a consequence of either conditions that favour rapid population growth or from a lack of males.**

**Pathenogenesis - ****A form of ****asexual reproduction****where growth and development of ****embryos****occur without ****fertilization****.**

**Thelytokous ****parthenogenesis**** – ****A type of growth and development of female ****embryos**** which are produced from unfertilized eggs. **

.

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter: **

**_ "Stand In The Rain"_**** by Superchic(k)**


	36. Ch 36: Go Ask Alice

**Author's Note:**

Please pay attention to this warning, because it's the last time you're going to see it in this story: we are in the dark 1/3rd of "When Love and Hate Collide", and it's going to contain explicit non-con (as explained in the initial Story Notes in chapter 1). Eventually, this portion of the story will end, however, and the plot will then take another turn that doesn't feature non-con at all (that's a spoiler, though, so I will say no more).

As previously stated, the story is already finished, and those who read it in its revision 1.0 incarnation know it ends happily, eventually. It may seem like it can never get to that point after this chapter, but I promise you, it will… and it will make solid sense as to how that could happen. I hope you'll keep your eye on that prize, dear reader. Let's muster on together!

The title of this chapter - "Go Ask Alice" - is not a reference to the book of the same name, but in reference to Alice from "Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carroll, who I much envision poor Hermione can sympathise with in this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-six: Go Ask Alice**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_**, **_**Scotland**_

_**December 7, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)**_

Hermione was positively frazzled by her week. In between learning the routine of her new classes for the second term, she'd decided to continue on with Advanced Arithmancy, as well as her extra Wizarding Law class. Her Prefect Duties were handed back to her as well, which left her with patrol on Wednesday nights from eight until ten.

The only responsibility she'd deferred was her first term's postponed optional class, Controlling Elementalor Magic, which she'd decided to take during her third term, beginning in March. That she'd had to do so, however, had been a great disappointment for her. Yet, she'd determined that with everything that was going on between her and Draco –or wasn't, as the case seemed to be– she couldn't afford the additional stress right then.

Oh, nothing was overtly wrong between her and her lover, _per se._ Over the last six days, by all outside perception, Draco had been the perfect boyfriend: he'd been very attentive, polite, encouraging, and engaging when it came to any discussion revolving around school subjects or her Prefect duties. He'd walked her to her classes and had sat next to her if they'd shared the same schedule. He'd escorted her into the dining hall where they'd shared meals at each other's sides. He'd even accompanied her up to The Fat Lady's portrait every evening to say goodnight. He hadn't pushed for anything sexual, keeping things as chaste as possible, citing a need not to put any additional pressure upon her.

And therein lay the problem. Hermione actually missed her rascally Draco. She missed his naughtiness and snarky wit. As things stood there was almost no touching between them, and the only kisses she'd received from him had been subdued, decent little pecks that were as bland and stiff as bleached cardboard.

Obviously, she'd tried to create opportunities for her and Draco to be alone and to initiate intimacies, but each time, he'd skillfully manoeuvered his way around and out of them, leaving her frustrated and fretting. What was she doing wrong? Why didn't he want to touch her anymore? Had he decided that their relationship was too dangerous to continue, or that it was too much effort to maintain? Was his withholding of affection a result of the Dark Mark's influence upon his personality, or was this a natural decline in his romantic feelings for her?

With such limited experience in relationships, Hermione just didn't know, and Draco refused to talk about the problem, finding creative ways to shut down such discussions as they began, leaving Hermione with more questions than answers.

Frankly, she missed being wild with Draco. It had been, in her estimation, far too long since the last time they'd made love, and her temper was beginning to prickle. When they'd begun having sex, her wily Slytherin had opened up her world, and she'd learned some vital things about herself in only a few short weeks, growing in ways that would have been unimaginable to her just this past summer. Now to go without those glorious, freeing feelings... She felt as if she'd been dumped all over again. It was vexing, not to mention disheartening.

The whole issue had her feeling quite ill, honestly. Not only did she sleep longer hours now, and feel rather fuzzy-headed in the mornings despite the extra rest, but the thought of eating heavy meals made her stomach positively queasy. She was relegated to nibbling on plain scones, tea, warmed breads, chicken soup, and the occasional salad. She suffered mood swings, too, and had actually experienced a piercing migraine just yesterday. She worried that these were all signs that the depression she'd struggled with during the time she and Draco had been broken-up had never really gone away, and as a result of this last week's inexplicable withdrawal by him, was in fact now getting worse.

Gah! She wanted to tear her hair out in aggravation! Something had to change and soon, or she was sure she would go quite mad.

Refusing to feel victimized by the situation any further, Hermione came to a hard decision: she would not be meeting Draco for breakfast in the dining hall that morning, as they'd agreed the night before. She was determined to make him realize what he was missing out on by continuing to play his secret Slytherin games with her.

Was that plan petty? Absolutely, but it was also justified in her mind, as she was through looking like some desperate, silly first year with a ridiculous infatuation, chasing after a man for his kisses.

Making her way down to the kitchens, she managed to talk the house-elves into letting her bring some food back up to her common room. With her tray laid out on a round table near one of the narrow tower windows, she took a seat and began to eat.

When she finished her meal an hour later, still alone, she resolved not to let it bother her, and made herself comfy on the Gryffindor sofa before the fire to study in relative peace while everyone else ran off to Hogsmeade, or to play out in the snow, or to some club function.

To her great disappointment, Draco never showed up at her House entrance to look for her that morning.

**X~~~~~X**

Around half-past twelve, Ginny showed up and took a seat next to Hermione on the couch, letting her outdoor boots dry before the fire, rather than using a spell.

Her friend didn't greet her. She simply advised in a wry tone, "Go find him."

"If he wants me, he knows where I'm at."

Ginny twirled her wand between her fingers and slumped back into the cushions of the sofa. "You're heaping hurt on top of hurt doing this, you know. That kind of game can backfire on you."

Hermione's heart understood that well, but still, her pride refused to let her give in. Resolutely, she shook her head.

Her best girlfriend sighed, got up, and went back to the portrait entrance, her snow jacket bundled tightly around her and charmed against the wet cold. Her red and gold scarf was slung around her shoulders and hung down to her knees. "Well, if you get bored, we're in front of the Quidditch pitch, building a snow fort. No magic allowed. Seamus and Dean are determined to win a Muggle-styled snowball fight against Ravenclaw at least once before the end of the year. Hope you'll come out and play, too. You're only young for so long, 'Mione."

"Thanks," Hermione replied to the offer, but they both knew that she had absolutely no intention of participating, and precisely the reason why.

**X~~~~~X**

An hour more passed before Hermione decided to take a walk around the castle, to stretch her legs and to give her eyes a rest from reading. She'd been much too restless and fidgety to concentrate on her studies anyhow, and perhaps _(she hoped!)_ she'd even get lucky and run into Draco.

With no specific destination in mind, she roamed the corridors, climbing and descending stairs in random order. She started on the second floor, but then moved to the fifth, and then back down to the first, and so on. The exercise was good for her, as it got her heart pumping, and as she passed portraits, ghosts, professors, and students, their happy greetings helped to lighten her mood.

When she found herself alone with no one else in sight, however, she mulled over the discoveries she'd made this week regarding her hair ribbon.

By casually fingering the magical accessory while engaging in conversation with others, she'd eventually discovered that she'd be asked about the ribbon out of politeness. This, of course, had been the intentional ruse she'd worked out in advance. _"It's called a Chameleon Ribbon,"_ she would reply, crossing her fingers behind her back for the fib. _"I purchased it from a street peddler's cart in Diagon Alley at the start of the school year, but I'm beginning to doubt the truth of its sale. I haven't seen it change colour once!" _Then, she would casually ask what colour the ribbon was at that given moment to her audience member, seeking their observations. She kept a parchment of names and recorded their responses, just as Teddy had recommended. By week's end, the tally was clear: plain, uninspired red –no fire, no luminescence, just the matte colour- won out unanimously. No one seemed to see the ribbon's opalescent fire like she and Draco did and this only confirmed what she'd suspected all along – that the ribbon was a magical connection meant for and existing only between the two of them.

There were still a few people she wanted to ask on the matter, however, specifically Harry and Ron. She'd avoided talking to her two boys as much as possible this last week, not quite ready to be confronted for information on Draco's Death Eater status and any plans he might be cooking up at Voldemort's behest. The lies had been falling out of her mouth too easily in recent weeks, and the guilt was beginning to pile up, only adding to her stress. For that reason, it was better to avoid her oldest friends, at least for the time being.

As she passed by the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor, she noted the tapestry across from it had been nudged to the side, as if someone had been leaning against it to inspect the opposite wall, where the hidden entrance to the Come and Go Room was located. As a Prefect, she'd been informed by Professor Dumbledore that this Room was strictly off-limits to all students this year.

If someone was rule-breaking, she ought to check it out.

Walking past the Room, she performed the prerequisite request for entrance three times in succession in her head. Her silent question had been worded precisely to discover who and what was inside the Room at that very minute. A non-descript door appeared in the wall a moment later, granting her admission. It looked as though it could have belonged to any broom closet. Reaching for the handle, she opened it and stepped through.

In the dim, grayish afternoon light filtering through the sporadically-placed skylights and windows, Hermione could see that she was in a cavernous room that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sheer size of it reminded her of Tolkein's description of a Dwarven city, with ceilings that stretched at least fifty feet high, and intricately carved columns that dotted the landscape at irregular intervals to hold up the roof. The floors were made of the same stone as the rest of the castle, and were smooth and even.

The entire room was one, big junk repository.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Hermione spied a strange sort of order to the eclectic stash. Wide, mostly straight alleys separated the hundreds of piles of stuff, allowing for visitors to meander around the room without the fear of getting too lost, thereby encouraging them to come in and have a look around. The cache of goods closest to the door was noticeably a mixture of old and new product, enticing treasure hunters to wander further in to sort through the room's unique blending of modern and vintage wealth.

At its most basic, the room encouraged curiosity.

There didn't seem to be a theme to make sorting through the piles easier, though, as far as Hermione could tell. Colours, sizes, and styles of similar product varied greatly from one pile to the next and priceless antiques were stacked on top of wrecked furniture. Why, just from her vantage spot by the door she spotted a kindling pile of broken broomsticks, the life-sized chess pieces of a Rook and a Bishop, an enormous stuffed troll, and a toppled suit of armor missing its helmet lying in the middle of a mountain of dominoes. Her eye picked out rickety dining chairs sitting atop bedroom dressers, and sagging mattresses from old dorm beds served as final resting spots for rusted swords, outdated navigator terrestrial globes, and bunches of desiccated flowers. A series of wrought-iron candlesticks on tall stands stood together in a dark recess, covered in stalactite wax drippings. Worn sofas from the four House common rooms were heaped with old bedding, moth-eaten towels, a varied selection of men's and ladies' wide-brimmed hats from various centuries, torn rugs, and faded House banners. Mirrors and empty picture frames leaned up against tilting armoires. Cracked bathroom sinks and toilets and damaged busts of famous wizards and witches were amassed atop burned and pitted potions tables. Dishes, pans, cups, and vials of every kind were turned over or crammed into and around every available surface. The incomplete skeleton of a giraffe sat under a giant glass dome near a window, and a taxidermied Occamy was displayed opposite a taxidermied Dodo under a glass box nearby. Playing cards and musical instruments and chipped tea sets shared space with empty bird cages, mismatched shoes, dried up bottles of ink, and socks with holes worn in the heels. And there were books _everywhere_, lining shelves, splayed open, and stacked so high that even Hagrid would have trouble reaching the top if he stretched his hand up as far as he could and stood on tip-toe. It was utter chaos.

It was the Room of Hidden Things.

Hermione had finally found it.

In sheer awe –none of her reading on this room had prepared her for the amazing sight before her– she descended the short flight of stairs and began her own exploration, all the while keeping in mind that someone was in here with her, breaking the rules.

A slight moldy odour lingered in the air, she noticed, especially as she moved further in, and it set her to a triple sneezing fit. Strangely, there didn't seem to be dust on surfaces, nor any dust motes floating in the streams of fading daylight coming from above. She wondered if the room had a self-cleaning spell or a type of stasis charm upon it. She also wondered if it had a ground warming charm of some sort, because the temperature in the room was quite comfortable, despite its high ceilings.

As she wandered around in search of the errant student, Hermione couldn't help but pause once to pick up a beaten-up copy of _Enchanted Encounters_ by Fifi LaFolle, thumbing through its pages. It was while she was doing this that she heard a swish of moving fabric from somewhere close behind her. She quickly turned, but saw no one.

"_Lumos_," she cast, and her wand lit up the area around her. "Who's there?"

There was no answer.

She put the book down and attempted to coax the unseen student out of his or her hiding place as she moved closer to the location where she'd thought she'd heard him rustling about. "Come out now. I'm a Prefect. You aren't supposed to be in here. You could get in trouble." Her voice echoed off the rafters above, but her leather-soled Oxfords were practically silent on the stone floor under her feet. "If I promise not to dock House points or give you detention, will you come out?"

Still there was no response, although she did hear the soft patter of someone's footfalls off to her left. Passing by a rather ominous, triangular black cabinet, she rounded the aisle into the next row, and the solid stone wall of the castle was spread out before her.

Dead end.

Hermione _tsk'd _with annoyance, tired of the cat-and-mouse game, and raised her head to call out, hoping the student was nearby and would hear. "Look, I'm not going to tell on you!" she promised. "You can trust me to come out. I just want to make sure you aren't hurt. There are a lot of dangerous things in here!"

"Yes, there are."

Before Hermione could discern the voice, her wand was knocked from her hand with a rather violent slap, and she was shoved face-first into the wall. She made her attacker's identity a second later when his all-too-familiar body pinned her against the rough stone, and she caught a whiff of his cologne.

"D-Draco?"

"Hello again, my princess."

_Oh, God._

That wasn't Draco's natural voice – at least, not the one Hermione had become accustomed to hearing from him whenever they talked now. There was a sharper, darker bite to his tone, one that reminded her of how he'd sounded at thirteen when he'd bought into Lucius' brainwashing and had enjoyed bullying her. Its character was more refined with age, but it still carried that same edge of spite and barely-restrained violence as it had back then.

It belonged to his demonic side.

"I've missed you," he professed with a sinister chuckle as she squirmed in his hold, attempting to get free. "I've been watching and waiting for this chance all week."

Hermione's heart pattered so hard in her chest that she feared it would tear its way up her throat and crawl out her mouth to flop around on the floor at their feet. "Wha-what are you doing in here?" she demanded, refusing to let her fear overtake her, knowing that's just what this monster wanted her to feel.

His smirk slid wide against her throat as he bent to nip her over her pulse. "Have you missed me?" he asked silkily, dodging her question.

"Not a smidge, now let me go!" she bit between bouts of futile struggling.

Merlin, he was _so_ strong! He held her down with hardly any effort, and his grip on her wrist was vice-like.

He began pressing small kisses across the expanse of her throat, nudging aside her collar over the bite mark he'd given her weeks ago. "Not yet," he purred, rubbing his very hard erection against her backside. "As I said, I've missed you - missed _this._" He punctuated that last bit with a lewd thrust of his pelvis against her arse. "It took me all week to regain my strength after that little stunt you pulled in the classroom, and I've had nothing to do since but entertain myself with thoughts of the perfect revenge." He sighed with longing against her cheek. "Remember when I had you pinned to the tile in the shower and fucked you until you nearly bled? You squirmed on my cock and begged for more, while _he _begged me to stop hurting you. Fun times." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I think we'll go for a repeat tonight, only without the water. What do you say, my princess?"

"Don't you dare," she seethed, continuing to struggle, refusing to give up. "Don't you dare touch me like that ever again, you bastard! I don't want you!"

Malfoy's free hand roamed down her side, over her hip, and began pulling up her skirt. "I beg to differ. I think you absolutely _do_ want me, my princess," he countered, and when her skirt had been raised high enough, he shoved his free hand under it to skim the elastic edge of her knickers. "I've been watching you, you see. You're desperate for a good, hard shag, aren't you? Admit it - you've wanted me to touch you like this all week."

"I've wanted Draco," she corrected him. "Not you, Malfoy."

His hand smoothed around to the front of her and cupped her mons, lying steady and warm against her core. Hermione sensed the move was more a threat, and less an intended seduction.

"So you've seen fit to give me a name, have you? How sweet… but unnecessary. I _am_ Draco - the new and improved version."

Firmly, Hermione shook her head. "You aren't him, no matter how much you might wish to be. You're nothing more than a small piece of the whole, a facet of Draco's personality – the cruelest part."

Rather than get angry, as she'd expected, Malfoy merely chuckled with amusement. "You say that like it's a bad thing, pet. And anyway, I control this body now, so I guess that makes me the most important piece."

"Don't fool yourself. You're nothing more than a pawn temporarily promoted," she spat, her anger riled by his lewd touching. "You'll never be anything but a shade of the real wizard."

He rubbed his fingers between the split of her lower lips, causing the cotton fabric of her panties to lightly pinch her clit. A jolt of pleasure shot up Hermione's spine and she bit her lip to keep from reacting to the touch. He was assaulting her, plain and simple, and there was nothing at all sexy about that.

"Can a mere shade make you feel like _this?_" he hissed, clearly irked by her barbed comments.

When she refused to answer, he caressed her with just the right amount of pressure and in the right spot, eliciting a shiver of desire from her traitorous body. There was no hiding such a visible reaction, much to her disgust.

"See, I didn't think so," he taunted. "In fact, I bet I can make you want me more than that pathetic pussy boy any day of the week." He flicked her earlobe with his tongue and nibbled on it with his straight, white teeth even as his fingers continued to tease her arousal with infuriating expertise. "I can make you want me to the point of begging, my princess. I can make you like the pain I'll give you as much as the pleasure." He slipped his fingers under the band of her panties and petted her wet quim with a fierce, wicked possessiveness. "In time, I could even make you forget _he _exists."

"That will never happen!" Hermione forswore, fighting the sensations he was attempting to arouse within her. She clamped her legs together and clenched her muscles tight to prevent him further entrance. Undaunted, he wiggled his fingers, caressing her sensitive clitoris. "Ugh! Get your hands off me, you disgusting pervert!"

With a violent kick of his foot to the inside of her ankle, and a forcible manoeuvering of his thigh, he wrenched her legs apart.

"Stop!" she cried out as his fingers slipped down into the groove of her lower lips, seeking her vaginal entrance.

He shifted his leg, opening her further, keeping her off-balance with his weight and the angle in which he'd pinned her to the wall. "You don't want me to stop," he stated with supreme confidence, feeling the evidence of her body's natural reactions slicking his fingers as he rimmed her opening. "You want this. Admit it."

He thrust two fingers deep into her, and Hermione's body jerked in response. A despairing moan escaped from between her lips. "I don't want this," she insisted, pushing against the wall, trying to gain some leverage for escape. "I don't want you at all!"

Malfoy shoved her back, exerting greater pressure to hold her still, even as he pumped his fingers in and out of her to a hard, fast rhythm. His mouth and teeth attacked her exposed throat over her sensitive erogenous spot, and she cringed as far away as she could.

"Your pussy is soaking my hand, princess," he taunted as he licked the spot of skin directly over her rapidly beating pulse. "You've been dying for me to fuck you again, haven't you?"

In defiance, Hermione sniffed with disgust. "You could only wish," she grated out between clenched teeth.

"Heh. You're amusing, witch," he complimented. "You know, I love your stubbornness almost as much as your manipulative side. It definitely turns me on in the same way." To prove his point, he thrust his pelvis once more against her bottom, riding a thick, hard erection between the divide. "I think I'll take this pretty arse tonight, too," he casually commented, unconcerned that he'd scandalized her with such a forbidden idea. "Might as well have all of your major firsts, huh?"

The memories of what damage Malfoy had done to her so far were awful enough, but to hear him speak of doing even more depraved things… God, Voldemort's dark magic had really damaged Draco, hadn't it? It had created a fissure between his sanity and his madness, and now that separation was nearing 'continental divide' proportions.

Was this to be Draco's ultimate fate, then? Would this evil side take over once and for all, destroying the boy she loved? Where was her Draco? How could he let this… demon… touch her like this?

"Draco, _please,_ s-stop him," she implored with a barely-contained sob.

"Draco's not home at the moment," her rapist gleefully informed her. "Try again in, say… never."

He laughed at his own joke, even as he continued to abuse her body with his hand.

"Y-You've hurt me e-enough, Malfoy, don't you think?" she asked, switching tactics, trying to appear weak so he might lose interest faster, since it seemed he enjoyed her challenging him. "You took my virginity. You've scarred my flesh with your teeth. You nearly crushed my chest at lunch that one day. You gave me a concussion… You've scared me. Is that what you wanted to hear? You've _terrified_ me. That's enough, isn't it?"

His fingers continued to pump in and out of her with increasing fervency, as if her words didn't work to shame him, but excite him instead. "Not even close," he admitted, clearly delighting in the thought. He rutted against her, inciting his own lust as much as he was attempting to stimulate hers. "You were so damned tight and wet the first time we fucked, and you cried all through it. I loved every second of your pain. I want that again."

When he let her arm go to reach around and burrow under her shirt, it took a few moments for the feeling to return to the limb. The pain distracted Hermione long enough for him to pull one of her bra cups down and pinch her nipple. She gasped in surprise, even as he nudged her legs wider and plunged ruthlessly up into her, adding a third finger and stretching her wide.

A scream of denial left her throat as he brutally fucked her with his hand. Her panic hit the roof, making her mindless and lending her a strength she didn't expect. Pushing with all her might, Hermione propelled away from the wall, dislodging Malfoy's hold at last. She stumbled in the get-away as he reached for her, but easily slid out of his sweaty, wet grasp and began running back down the aisle, forgetting her wand in her terrified flight to escape.

She made it to the end of the row and felt that burst of relief at escape…

"_Incarcerous_."

Malfoy whooped in maniacal laughter as she was hit by his magic and crumbled to the floor. Magical rope ensnared her, tangling around her torso and legs in a hold that was completely unbreakable. She struggled anyway, refusing to go down without a fight.

Her assailant was suddenly there, his foot planted in the middle of her back. Pushing upon her spine with his heel, he easily kept her down. "Turnabout is fair play, princess. You bound me a few days ago, now it's your turn to see how it feels to be helpless."

Furious, she shouted in between her futile thrashing, "You bastard! Let me go! I'll hex your ears off, Malfoy! Set me free!"

His foot came off her backbone, but the spell stayed in place.

"_Mobilicorpus_."

Jolted into the air by his magic, she felt a rolling bout of nausea as she bobbed up and down in free fall. "Let me down, or I'm going to be sick all over your shoes," she threatened him.

Her captor came around to the front of her, smirking, holding her wand in one hand and his own in the other. "I think I like seeing you trussed up like a Christmas goose, princess. It's a good look for you."

With that, he turned and began walking back through the room, magically tugging her along after him.

**X~~~~~X**

Floating on air was incredibly disconcerting and disorienting; Hermione was a 'feet firmly on the ground' kind of girl. The continual dipping and weaving as he led her around made her dizzy. Despite knowing how important it was for her to map out the route he took, she finally gave in to her instinct to close her eyes, concentrating instead on keeping the contents of her stomach inside her body.

When they finally stopped, it took Hermione a moment longer to calm the spinning in her head. As she finally opened her eyes, she wished to Godric she hadn't.

She'd been led over to an old dormitory bed, its frame and mattress in surprisingly solid condition. There was no clutter across its soft surface to indicate it was a useful storage outlet. In fact, it had the look of a bed often put to use by a person sleeping in it, and in recent times, too. It had two mismatched pillows and a rumpled set of dark grey blankets upon it. Who had been sleeping here and why? Had it been Draco? If so, why would he camp out in the Room of Hidden Things?

Malfoy stepped into her line of sight, his lips twisted with cruelty, his eyes as dark as night. "Here's where you get off, my princess."

The double entendre was hard to miss, especially when coupled with his sadistic leer.

"Don't do this," she pleaded with him as he guided her over the centre of the mattress. "Please, Draco, hear me! Fight him! You must fight him! Don't let him do this to me again!"

For a split second, Hermione thought she'd reached the man she loved as her body hovered above the mattress, unmoving, but then she was dropped onto it rather roughly, and her hopes were dashed. The levitation spell was released with a "_Finite Incantatem_," but the binding spell remained in place around her body.

When the ropes slipped of their own accord up her body to clamp around her wrists, she was able to get her knees under her, but with another quick incantation cast by Malfoy, the ropes sprang outward, binding her hands together to one of the thick, wooden rungs in the old-fashioned headboard. "Not so fast." he pushed her back down into the mattress with applied force on her spine again.

She turned her head to keep from suffocating, and was forced to watch him removing his clothes. "Malfoy, please, stop now," she whispered, terrified. "What you're planning is evil."

Bare-chested, he stopped with his fingers hovering over the button on his slacks and stared at her with a cold, serpentine gaze. "Admit you want me more than him and I'll let you go."

Even to be free, Hermione found the words wouldn't come when she opened her mouth. Her heart refused to let her say them.

From her peripheral vision, the ribbon gave off a warm, red glow through the pleats of her braided hair. It's familiar and comforting presence gave her a boost of courage.

"Never," she pronounced in bold defiance, meeting his eye.

Malfoy's lip curled in anger, but rather than argue, he instead lifted Draco's wand and cast a _"Diffindo"_ upon her school uniform and undergarments. The cotton and woolen materials dissolved within seconds into a pile of limp rags, which he easily tossed to the floor with a triumphant flick of his wand and a malicious smirk.

He moved to kneel upon the mattress next, and headed towards the foot of the bed. From her awkward position, Hermione couldn't see Malfoy, but she felt it when he removed her shoes and socks in successive order, stripping her of the last of her clothing. An instant later, the ribbon was charmed out of her hair, too, leaving her truly feeling vulnerable. She watched as the fiery strip of silk flitted over to the side of the bed by an invisible hand and was unceremoniously dropped away.

"I hate that fucking thing," he growled, referring to the ribbon. "Lose it, permanently, would you?"

She wondered why he just didn't attempt to burn it with a spell.

"I have a better idea: why don't you go bugger yourself with a bargepole," she countered, borrowing from Ron's crude, more imaginative vocabulary.

Behind her, Malfoy chuckled. "Who knew that prissy, little mouth of yours was so colourful, princess." He slapped her bum with a whack hard enough to make her mutter a profanity. "Mmmm… That's wicked hot."

The mattress jostled a bit as he repositioned himself somewhere behind her, and the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck raised with sudden alarm.

The sound of Malfoy's trouser zip being pulled down was loud in the suddenly quiet room.

Jesus, he really was going to rape her again, wasn't he?

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, GOD! _

Why wasn't Draco stopping him?

Shivering from head to toe, she shut her eyes, expecting immediate violence upon her.

To her immense surprise, Malfoy began a series of soft, almost reverent touches across her shoulders and down her spine. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, directing his fingertips down the sway of her back, over her buttocks, and following the curve. "I can't wait to ruin all this perfection."

Hermione clamped her thighs together and clenched up again to keep him out of her most sacred parts as he attempted to finger her again.

Undeterred by her continual refusal, Malfoy's palms glided down the backs of her thighs, prying them apart. When her legs were forcibly spread wide enough, he knelt between them, keeping them open.

She felt the heat of his naked body lean over her, watched him plant his hands to either side of her head, and felt him slide his erection between her lower cheeks. Tears flooded her eyes. "Please, _no,"_ she whispered.

Without pause, he leaned his head down, trailing his lips over her neck and shoulders, and he tilted his hips to find the perfect angle in which to tease the entrance of her quim. The head of him pushed in a bit, backed off, repeated. He took her with very shallow thrusts, spearing her only by centimeters before pulling back, his rhythm maddening as he hit that spot on the upper inside of her body that was guaranteed to ignite her lust every time.

Against her will, her body responded. A rush of her slick juices bathed him.

"I can smell and feel your arousal," he murmured against her throat, a dark hunger edging his voice. He shifted his weight onto one palm and used two fingers to slide up her cleft to ring the hole of her back entrance. He rubbed his hand back and forth, teasing the area. "My naughty princess, you want me to fuck you here, don't you?"

Hermione choked on her tears. "Don't. Please don't!"

Malfoy bent his head to her ear as he thrust deep into her core. His finger pierced her tiny rosette a beat later, and then he began taking what he wanted from her, alternating the plunging of his hips with that of his hand.

"You're so wet. I can practically taste your desperation. You want this, don't you? You want _me._ Say it."

She shook her head back and forth, sobbing into the soft, grey blanket. "No!"

"You're lying," he stated, drilling her with his finger, adding a second to open her further. He pushed both digits as far up into her as he could go, but strangely, he was careful in doing so. He was also gentle in his hip thrusts, filling her body in smooth gliding surges, rather than heavy pounding, as she'd expected.

Ah, but of course he was being attentive. Of course, he presented the illusion of caring. Malfoy was manipulative to the core, just as Teddy had postulated he'd be, and she'd caught on to his game now: he was attempting to seduce her, to make her betray Draco by employing lust as a weapon against her.

He was trying to break her and Draco's hearts, to turn them against each other… to drive them as insane as he was.

As that realization washed over her, indignation rose within Hermione's breast. Refusing to give Malfoy what he wanted, she sadistically bit down on her lower lip to stave off the arousal he was conjuring within her, countering it with pain.

"Princess, I can feel your insides quivering around my cock," he rasped. "Let go. Give yourself to me."

Desperate to deny him, she bit down harder on her lip until at last, she drew blood. The intentional hurt short-circuited her pleasure receptors with pain, and the sexual moment he'd been stimulating was thankfully lost. "You evil, despicable sod!" she thundered the moment she felt she'd regained enough control. Her rage burned a hole in her chest and gave her mouth permission to be reckless. "You may be able to incite me in ways that make my body react, but my mind finds you detestable, Malfoy!"

Behind her, he went absolutely still.

Hermione was tempted to look over her shoulder at him, but instead kept her eyes firmly fixed to the headboard, where the rope holding onto her wrists was secured. Oh, how she longed for a wand!

"No matter what response you wring from me with these sick games you play, in my heart, know that I feel nothing but loathing for you," she persisted, knowing she had his full attention now. "I will _never _want you like I want Draco. I love him, and you won't ever change that fact!"

He remained silent in the immediate aftermath of her pronouncement, and Hermione could count her heartbeats as pulses in her mouth as she waited for his reaction.

It wasn't long in coming it turned out – twenty seconds, maybe less.

All of his muscles slowly tensed and his enraged, panting breaths grew heavy against the nape of her neck as he lowered his mouth and angled for her ear. She knew then that she'd stung this dragon much too hard and was about to get the sharp end of his teeth.

"Have it your way, whore," he snarled, clearly furious.

Grabbing her hips in a bruising hold, he pulled them up, angled her just so, and thrust so hard that he drove in to the very hilt of him. Hermione cried out in pain as he withdrew all the way out, then plunged into her violently again. He did this to her over and over, letting his tip reach the edge of her opening before slamming back into her. He kept bumping her cervix, too, which _hurt_.

"Draco," she whimpered, tears pouring from her eyes. "Help me!"

Malfoy's anger was a feral thing that knew no boundaries or pity. He hurt her as much as he possibly could, powering into her with strength and at a cruel pace. He pulled her mussed hair in a vicious tug so her head tilted back and her spine curved to give him even deeper penetration. He was completely ruthless, unmoved by her pain-filled cries and weak struggles.

The air was humid with their combined musk and their bodies were slippery with sweat as their skin met again and again. Hot, sticky fluid dripped from between Hermione's legs, and she prayed it wasn't blood. She tried to look, but Malfoy's hold on her hair was unforgiving, forcing her face to the sky to maintain the arch he wanted for her spine.

"Draco, please stop him," she wept. "Please try… for me!"

Malfoy's roar of satisfaction was loud as he came to his end long minutes later. As his hot seed spurted deep inside her, he dropped his head back down and pressed his mouth to her cheek, cursing her.

"Fuck you and him, both!"

Exhausted and hurting, Hermione slumped into the mattress as he let her hair go with a vicious shove. She wanted to crawl into a hole to hide to lick her wounds after that, but she was bound and still his prisoner… and his reprieve didn't last long.

As he finished in one of her holes, Malfoy brutally took the other, his refractory period like his strength defying the norm. Hermione screamed into the blankets as he shoved into her, opening up her virgin back channel without any lubrication, tunneling inside and taking what he wanted. It burned! Her body rebelled and clamped down around him, only to cramp and push against him a moment later in an attempt to expel him. He muscled on through, though, forcing her to accept this claim of another of her firsts.

Oh, God, it was _agony!_ It hurt more than anything she'd ever felt before!

She cried out as much as his pelvis met her backside and he was embedded completely inside her. To her surprise, as if he'd heard her and was for some unfathomable reason moved by her weeping, Malfoy went easy on her. His thrusts as he had her rear weren't as brutal as the initial taking had been, but they were thorough. He went full and deep with every surge forward, assuring she was stretched wide and accommodated every inch he fed her, so there would be absolutely no question as to his taking of her here, too.

Eventually, when her sobs tapered off into whimpering, it seemed as though Malfoy lost interest in the game, however. He withdrew completely then, and her hips were released from his punishing grip. She drooped into the mattress like a flower in its bed when lashed by the heat of the summer sun.

The tingle of magic washed over her as Malfoy muttered a Cleaning Charm over both of them a second later. "No more," she prayed aloud, exhausted and hurting. Her hips were sore, her derrière was on fire, and her thighs shook uncontrollably. She wiped her sweaty brow upon the blankets. "Please, no more."

To her dismay, it seemed her pleas were to be ignored.

Malfoy used his magic upon her again, this time to flip her onto her back. The ropes holding her wrists together twisted as she did, burning the thin skin, and she moaned at the ache that settled into every muscle as she was tossed about like a ragdoll on a string. She sank into the bed as the spell ended.

Before Hermione could utter a word in protest, her rapist lifted her legs over his shoulders, held onto her hips again, and sank himself into her once more. She groaned in discomfort, while he gasped in pleasure.

"Look at me."

Malfoy remained still and waited for her compliance, his body rigid with sexual tension. She did as he wanted, but only in the hopes that she would somehow be able to reach Draco behind the ebony gaze that stared into her soul, and draw him forward. "Good girl," he condescended, and started pumping in and out of her at a pace that wasn't quite as hard as earlier and yet far from what could be deemed 'gentle'. The meaty slap of his thighs against her buttocks was loud in the room as he knocked her about.

"Draco," she whispered, desperate to make a connection. "Come back to me. Fight for us. _Tell me."_

Malfoy's brow furrowed and he groaned, shutting his eyes and shaking his head.

Was she reaching Draco? Was he fighting to regain himself?

"Draco, hear me," she begged, grasping at straws. "Listen to my voice and reach for it. Take back your control and stop this madness!"

Malfoy's chest heaved on a deep breath, and when he peeked open his lids, she spied his eyes were a bit lighter, not so much the glittering of a pure onyx, but the subtle dark grey at the edge of twilight.

Hermione smiled through her tears. "I see you, Draco. I knew you could do it-"

A snarl erupted from Malfoy's lips, and his eyes flared as black as midnight once more. "You are _mine!"_ he screamed in her face.

Plunging with punishing strength into her body once more, he took her as he had earlier, mercilessly and with thoughts of only his own pleasure. Hermione could only shut her eyes and ride it out, biting back her responses to the pain. Within a minute, maybe two, Malfoy peaked, threw back his head, and came in her again with a hoarse cry.

He collapsed on top of her once his tremors passed, letting her legs slide down his arms and laying his cheek on her breast with supreme satisfaction. "Damn, that was fun," he tiredly laughed, and when he lifted his head and looked up into her eyes again, she could see the demon in him was still there. It hadn't gone away.

Hope crushing her chest, Hermione could only bear Malfoy's weight with a weary sense of defeat. So close… Draco had been so close to returning to himself!

Malfoy gave her a mocking smirk. "Still here. Guess that means you're stuck with me, huh?"

Emotionally wrung out, Hermione burst into tears. They tore through her, leaving her gasping for air. She whispered Draco's name over and over again, praying for him to save her.

**X~~~~~X**

It took several long minutes before the storm passed over her, and she was left with a blotchy face and a round of soft hiccupping in the aftermath.

Again, acting in a manner that left her confused and wary, Malfoy leaned forward and pressed his cheek to hers. "You hate me." He sounded disappointed in that fact.

What a loaded statement. Of course she hated him! He was a brute, and had repeatedly hurt her. She told him as much.

"Yet, you love him."

"Yes," she admitted, too tired to play whatever game he was up to now. "I love him."

He pulled back and stared at her with an expression on his face that she couldn't decipher.

"But you admitted a little while ago that I'm a part of him," he reminded her. "Although I despise the idea, that also logically means you have to love me, if you accept every part of him."

She barked an incredulous laugh right in his face at such a ridiculous conclusion. "I could never love you, Malfoy. You're not a real person, just a construct of Draco's dark side. You have no heart of your own."

His eyes widened in astonishment, but then quickly narrowed in anger. He pulled out and off of her, and threw himself down at her side, unconcerned that she was still very much tied up. "You're right. I'm nothing but black inside and out. And you know what? I'm fine with that, my princess."

She turned away from him, rolling onto her sore hip to give him the cold shoulder. "That's because you were born from dark magic, and not naturally like the rest of us," she threw back at him, wanting to hit him where it would hurt. Clearly, he hated to be reminded that he wasn't his own person. "And stop calling me that. I'm not a princess, much less _yours._"

"I disagree. You've always been mine_,_" he stated, malicious glee sprinkling his tone. It was disconcerting to Hermione how he could switch moods on a Knut, his temper varying from hot to cold in a completely unpredictable manner. "From the first moment I saw you, I claimed you, witch. You've always been mine to torture, mine to hurt, and mine to bring low, right where you belong. And now you're mine to arouse and fuck as I want, too. Get used to it."

"You're insane," she denied him.

Running a hand over the curve of her hip, he traced the areas where she knew bruises were beginning to show. She shivered and nudged away. He pulled her back with stubborn insistence, wrapping his arm about her and dragging her over to spoon with him. He rested his arm under her head to support her, and brought that arm about to wrap around her chest.

"That I am, and I'm going to love breaking you in half so you can join me," he murmured, nuzzling the back of her neck.

Hermione felt the fires of resentment rising up once more within her, and she tugged hard on the ropes holding her wrists immobile above her head. "Let me go, you foul, disgusting animal!"

He chuckled against her throat. "No, I'll never let you go. I'll do everything in my power to make sure you don't _want_ me to." He plucked at one of her nipples with a hand, while the other slipped between her thighs and began fingering her clit, attempting to arouse her. Against her backside, his erection stirred to life once more. "You were so wet for me earlier, princess, and your arse… you opened right up for me - like you wanted me there. I bet I can get you to like me fucking you like that. In fact, I bet I can get you to admit that you want me and you're mine, before the end of the year," he challenged her. "What do you say?"

She refused to answer him. Playing his games would only empower the little bastard.

Shutting her eyes, Hermione focussed on denying her body to experience any pleasure from what he was doing to her, and thought of ways to reach Draco again. He _had_ heard her earlier and had struggled to be free of Malfoy's mental blocks. It had almost worked… until Malfoy's clear jealousy had empowered him to push Draco back.

Jealousy where she was concerned was his trigger, as she, Draco, and Teddy had postulated. For some reason, that emotion gave him strength. How could she use that against him?

"What's the matter, my princess? Scared that you may find you want me more than _him_?" Malfoy taunted, attempting to rouse her interest in the conversation.

Hermione continued to lay passively in his arms with her mouth closed, refusing to give him any satisfaction.

"Princess, you're not giving up on our sport already are you?" he growled, his tone intimidating. Clearly, he didn't like being ignored. "I'm very disappointed. I may have to snap your neck and just get it over with, then."

Unwisely, she scoffed. "You wouldn't."

Malfoy's embrace suddenly tightened, and he wrapped one heavy leg around her, trapping her against his hard body. When he began squeezing, the pressure was controlled, but continued to steadily increase by the second. It was as if he were a constrictor snake, crushing the life right out of her. Her ribs felt like they were bending inwards as he pointedly demonstrated with force that he was not a man to bluff.

"Wouldn't I?" he menacingly hissed in her ear, a hand palming the delicate bones of her throat in implied threat.

She struggled, but he didn't let up, and soon, she discovered that her airway was being obstructed. Little white pinpricks of light began exploding before her eyes. Whimpering, she rasped, "Stop!"

He snickered. "Looks like I've got _your_ attention this time, don't I, my princess?"

The pressure suddenly let off, as Malfoy released her, completely moving away. The bed shifted, and she knew he had gotten up. She turned onto her back, gasping for air, and saw he was already getting dressed, completely unfazed by nearly murdering her where she lay.

As he slipped his slacks over his naked hips, his black gaze met hers. "I'm going now. Stay here and be a good girl, won't you?"

Hermione panicked at the knowledge that he intended on leaving her naked and alone in the Room of Hidden Things, without a wand and tied up – defenceless. Was anything actually alive in here that might be waiting for just such an opportunity?

Malfoy threw his black turtleneck over his head, and as he peeked through the neck opening, he smirked at her. "Don't worry, princess, I'll be back in a while. Then we can pick up where we've left off." As he gathered the edge of the blanket up and tossed it over her to provide some warmth, he gave her a leering grin. "I want another go at that tight, little arse of yours."

Turning his back on her, he sat on the end of the bed to slip on his socks and shoes. Then, reaching down one more time, he picked up from the floor both his and her wands, stood up, and walked away without another word.

"Wait!" she shouted after him. "You can't leave me here like this!"

He jauntily waved back at her over his shoulder, but never turned around.

As his platinum head turned a corner and dropped out of sight, Hermione began yelling every insult in the book at him, trying to goad him into coming back and setting her free. Nothing worked. After a minute or so, the booming sound of a door shutting down the far end told her he was really gone.

That rat bastard had left her! How could he? How _dare_ he?

Seething, she considered how best to escape on her own.

**X~~~~~X**

After half an hour of sifting through possibilities, Hermione had no choice but to admit defeat in her escape plans. The _Incarcerous_ ropes were, she knew, impossible to remove without a _Finite Incantatum_ directed at them. She might have been able to accomplish such a thing if she'd had more time to practice her non-verbal and wandless spells this year, but she hadn't. After several concentrated attempts that left her nearly blacking out, she'd had to concede that physically and emotionally, she was in no shape to attempt advanced magic.

It was no use screaming either, as no one outside of this room would be able to hear her. Further, no one would be able to get into this exact room unless they specified doing so. She was she hated to admit it, effectively trapped here until either Draco or Malfoy came back for her.

It was sad to think of them now as two completely separate beings. Her lover had truly been cracked wide open, and now he was forced to share a body with that _awful_ parasite. Worse, Draco was at its mercy. How horrible to be possessed by something you couldn't stop and to know it was doing great evil with your hands and your body!

God, it was like Malfoy was Draco's very own Imperius… his Unforgivable Curse.

Tears swam in her eyes again as she lay her head back down, exhausted. She closed her eyes and pictured her Draco as he'd been a few weeks ago, when he'd made love to her repeatedly that afternoon and night at The Three Broomsticks. She recalled his beautiful smile, his loving grey eyes, and his gentle voice as he'd told her he loved her.

_Oh, Draco… where are you? _

She cried until she fell into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED…**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**"Well-behaved women seldom make history." - ****Laurel Thatcher Ulrich (1976;**** /2012/11/03/well-behaved-women/**

**The Chameleon Ribbon does not exist in canon. I invented it for this fic. **

**Some of the items mentioned within the Room of Requirement in this chapter come directly from the novels by J.K. Rowling. Much of it, though, I extrapolated by looking at images of the Room from the "Harry Potter" movies. A few things have no canon source, however; I made them up & threw them in here just for fun. See if you can spot them. **

_**Enchanted Encounters**_** by Fifi LaFolle is a canon book – I didn't invent it (Fifi has a Chocolate Frog card dedicated to her, and it lists this fictional book as her major accomplishment).**

**In chess, when a pawn reaches the opposing side's back row, it is termed "promoted" and can then become either a Rook, Knight, Bishop, or Queen. Once the pawn picks a promotion role, it must stick with it for the remainder of the game.**

.

**Musical selections recommended for this chapter: **

"_**My Skin"**_** by Natalie Merchant**

**_"Ribbons and Detours"_ by Silversun Pickups**


	37. Ch 37: The Duality of Love

**Chapter Thirty-seven: The Duality of Love**

**_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_****, _Scotland_**

**_December 7-9, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)_**

Hours later, Malfoy returned. How many hours, Hermione had no way of knowing, but it felt like three, maybe four.

She went instantly alert the moment she heard the door open at the far end of the room. Her stomach knotted in fear as her tormentor's easy, measured footsteps came closer. She was cold, having been left naked and uncovered in this drafty, old room, but that wasn't why she was suddenly shivering.

To think she could feel dread where her boyfriend was now concerned…

No, the man coming towards her _wasn't _Draco. Not wholly, anyway.

Hours alone with nothing to do had provided Hermione's active brain time to turn over the entire situation, and she'd come to some very startling realizations: 'Malfoy' and Draco were two personalities warring for supremacy within the same body, much like that Muggle woman whose real-life struggle with mental illness was made into the movie, _The Three Faces of Eve_. Hermione recalled watching that show as a child one day when her parents were out and it was on the telly. It had both frightened and fascinated her then, and seemed rather relevant to her situation now.

In Draco's case, Tom Riddle's dark magic had somehow managed to either partition or promote the basest side of Draco's identity, allowing it its freedom. In effect, the Dark Mark had caused a dissociative identity crisis, or multiple personality disorder. 'Malfoy' was what Draco might have been had he been born strictly amoral, power-hungry, violent, and pleasure-seeking.

As to Malfoy's life goal, well, he'd already made that clear, hadn't he? He wanted to break Draco's mind and heart, to fully embrace the darkness and become an entity of chaos itself… but to do that he needed to destroy everything Draco loved - starting with her. He'd already told her how he'd planned to accomplish such a thing, too: by making Hermione lust for him, believing obsessive physical desire the key to stealing her love from Draco.

It seemed Malfoy was under the mistaken impression that sex and love were symbiotic passions.

Regardless, Hermione knew Malfoy's ambitious plan would certainly do the job of severely wounding Draco, no matter its eventual outcome. Aside from the physical brutality he visited upon her, which severely upset Draco, her boyfriend was also rather emotionally insecure about their new, untried relationship. His constant demand that she tell him she loved him during sex was an obvious indicator of his anxiety. Clearly, any betrayal of her feelings for him would be a crippling blow. It would also isolate him, removing her as one of his strongest supporters, weakening him - leaving him vulnerable to Malfoy's complete take-over.

…Which is what the slimy, evil git wanted.

Speaking of, Malfoy rounded a tall pile of abandoned school trunks, coming into full view at last. He was smiling like the happiest man on earth, his step jaunty and light. Looking as he did, she almost expected him to burst into full-on Julie Andrews mode, spinning around and singing with arms flung wide.

Something was slung over his left shoulder - a sack of some kind. Whatever it was, it looked not to be too heavy.

Her tormentor sauntered up and stopped at the edge of the bed, looking down at her with a calm, superior amusement. "Hello again, my princess. Did you miss me while I was away?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not a bit."

A slow, devastating smirk wound up his cheek. "Didn't think of me at all, hmm? Now, why do I find that hard to believe?" His gaze glided over every inch of her body, stopping at the exposed curls between her thighs. "I bet the fact your pussy's still sticky with my come has bothered you the entire time."

"You're foul."

His mouth widened, and his perfectly straight teeth were bright through his grin. "How's your arse feel? All stretched out and ready for another go?"

"You're a despicable human being."

"So, now I _am_ human?" he snarked, throwing back in her face her earlier contention that he wasn't anything more than a shadow of Draco – a piece, not a whole entity. "Knew you'd come around to that fact, eventually."

"You're only fooling yourself," she countered. "That may be the body you share with Draco, but it's _his_ first and foremost. You're merely letting the space… for the moment."

He lost his amusement in a heartbeat. "Keep telling yourself that while I'm boning you into the mattress and making you scream for more."

Turning his back to her, he moved towards a small pile of miscellaneous furniture nearby and dragged a small table out of the stack without toppling the rest. Malfoy pulled it over near the bed, and used Draco's wand to clear it of the years of dirt and dust. Tossing the sack onto the table, he began pulling food items out of the bag: cheese slices, bread, and a variety of fruits. Hermione was starving, but she turned her head away, refusing to let her captor know she needed anything from the likes of him. At the same time, she wiggled up the bed a bit to give the ropes around her wrists a little slack.

Malfoy sat down near the end of the bed, reaching out to tickle the arch of one of her feet. Hermione squirmed and kicked him in retaliation. He laughed, grabbed her foot, and yanked it hard. She gasped at the pain of almost having her ankle dislocated.

"I love your feistiness, but for right now behave, or you'll go hungry tonight."

"How long do you intend on keeping this up?"

Malfoy smoothed his hand up the back of her calf and she jerked, but didn't kick this time. "Until I win our little bet," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Which will be right around… never," she flatly informed him.

His smirk spoke of utter confidence. "I don't think your stubbornness will be able to stand up against the lust I evoke in you." He moved up the bed, letting his hands slide through her thighs, parting them with a forceful grip. Dipping his head, he licked right over her clit once, twice. "You've discovered that you like being fucked, haven't you? Sex feels good, doesn't it?" He flicked his tongue over her labia, rimming the entrance to her vagina. "You like being dominated, being taken. You like me owning you. Secretly, I think you like me punishing you, too."

He held her legs apart, leaning his weight on them to prevent them from moving as he slowly devastated her with his tongue and mouth. Hermione shut her eyes, determined not to find any pleasure from his force.

"Get off me," she snarled. "Stop it!"

"You're so wet already, and I've hardly touched you," he bragged, and thrust his tongue once into her. He continued torturing her for a bit, seducing her with his talent.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving her body in a state of unintended, unexpected arousal. Disgusted with herself and Malfoy, Hermione fumed in silence, struggling to get her body back under her control.

"Seriously, my delicious, little princess, I don't think it'll take that long until you to give yourself to me on a silver platter."

She sneered. "I wouldn't count on it." She peeked through her lids, casting all her scorn at him. "Eventually, when I don't show up in classes or the dining hall, people are going to search for me. They'll lock you away once they find us, and I tell them all about you and what you've done to Draco and me. They'll help me figure out a way to get rid of you once and for all."

Malfoy's face became deadly serious, his eyes flat, reptilian. The hands gripping her thighs began applying bruising pressure. "It would be very unwise of you or that sop, Ted, to tell anyone about me. You might want to rethink that plan. It would be a shame to have to kill you both this soon… not to mention how I'll make Draco pay."

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. She hadn't considered that Malfoy would threaten to cause physical harm to Draco to win her compliance to his plans. Could he really do it? How was such a thing possible? Surely, he wouldn't damage the same body he was forced to inhabit, would he? That would be like cutting off his nose to spite his own face.

…Which seemed like something Malfoy might do. He _was_ mentally unstable.

"What do you want from me?" she asked. Her voice had gone whisper-soft, trembling with fear. Malfoy, she was beginning to realise, was most likely capable of _anything._

His gaze became hungry as his eyes lowered to her mouth. "You know."

She shook her head. "No, I don't. I know what Draco wants from me, but you… I don't know what you want, Malfoy."

His lips twitched with cynical amusement. "I want what every red-blooded male in this castle wants: you on your knees, worshipping my cock with your last breath."

"Be serious," she stated, exasperated with his flippant attitude. "Tell me what you really want."

His eyes narrowed again. "Don't order me around, princess. I'm not some love-sick fool who falls all over himself to get your attention, like your pussy-boy, Draco."

"I know you're not him," she carefully replied, realizing she was treading dangerous waters.

He reached up and pinched one of her nipples in punishment, squashing it with force between his forefinger and thumb. Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep from making a sound.

"As long as we've established that," he stated, all smug, male arrogance once again.

He released the pressure on her nipple, soothing it now with soft caresses. "You want to know what I really want from you, my princess? I want you to abandon your feelings for your boy-toy, and to give them all to me. I want to own your pleasure and your pain for the rest of your life. I want to make you cry, and to hear you scream. I want to make you moan, and to have you beg me to pleasure you." He dropped his head between her legs and licked her again several times, arousing her body all over again. "I want you to be mine in every way, to love me so thoroughly that when I finally decide to end our little game you'll willingly let me end your life, too."

Holy. God.

He was truly, psychotically insane.

"I'll never want you like that," she vowed in a waspish tone.

He chuckled against her cunt, and his warm, huffing breath made her squirm.

"By all means, fight me."

He lapped through her seam a few more times, latching onto her little nub of flesh and sucking hard enough for her to see white spots before her eyes. When he bit her there, she let out a yelp, as the pain was sharp and instant. He grinned up her body as she struggled, but failed to raise her knees up, so she could bring them together to squash his head between her thighs.

Like before, he simply released her and moved back down the bed to the table where the food was laid out, switching off his interest in the game for the moment. He picked up an orange and casually peeled it with his fingernails, acting as if he hadn't just been doing nasty, cruel things to her.

"You're sick and twisted," she told him.

From this angle, she could see his profile. His smile was humourless. "You like me like that, because I'm the only one who'll give you pain without remorse."

She firmly shook her head. "No, I _don't_ like it."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Of course you do. You're the compassionate caregiver type – which makes you a secret masochist. Think of all the times you let that idiot Ginger King use you. And Potter. Neither one of them appreciate anything you do for them. Yet, you'll give everything you are to them over and over again, despite the fact it hurts you when they take your efforts for granted." He split the orange in half, and then into its further segments. "I think by now you've accepted the pain they cause you, because it's preferable to being alone and friendless. You've acclimatized to it even. That's why you enjoy what I do to you." He flicked a glance up and down her body, leering. "What I'm _going_ to do to you."

Hermione could say nothing to that, because in some of Malfoy's declaration, she heard the ring of truth. Not that last bit, obviously, but the stuff about accepting Ron and Harry's exploitation, intended or otherwise, over the years. It bothered her that he knew her so well. But then, Draco had spent six years observing her on and off, hadn't he? He'd probably witnessed her spats with the boys more than two dozen times over that period, and she'd caught him more than once eavesdropping on her conversations with them. He'd most likely watched her a lot more than she'd been aware.

Yes, it was in his Slytherin nature to catalogue others, to learn their weaknesses and strengths, but she'd also assumed he'd paid particular attention to her because she'd been Harry's friend, and Lucius Malfoy had wanted any intelligence he could gather on The-Boy-Who-Lived. Now, though, she wondered if there hadn't been more to Draco's intense scrutiny of her behavioural patterns and activities than she'd supposed.

Scooting back up the bed, Malfoy brought one of the orange wedges to her mouth. "Open up."

She intentionally shut her mouth and turned away from him.

He nudged the fruit slice against her mouth. "Eat it."

Hermione made a grunt of refusal in her throat, and kept her mouth intentionally closed.

Refusing to be denied, Malfoy's free hand shot out and pinched her left nipple again, this time much harder. When she gasped, her lips parted, and he took the opportunity to shove the orange into her mouth. She caught it with her tongue before it choked her, and tossed him a defiant look.

"If you spit it out, I'll beat you," he threatened, and she was sure he meant it. Grudgingly, she chewed the orange and swallowed it. He presented her the next piece, sliding it across her closed lips. She shook her head, refusing him again. He snickered, enjoying her defiance. "Keep fighting me, princess. It just makes me want to fuck you all the harder."

A wave of helplessness washed over her as she stared into Malfoy's sadistic, black eyes. Would she ever see the grey of the arctic sky in Draco's face again, or was she stuck with this sick bastard forever?

Her emotions swelled and unstoppable tears slipped free from the corner of her eyes, trailing down the sides of her temple.

Malfoy lost his brief humour and snapped at her, "Stop crying all the bloody time!"

"Why do you care?" she shouted back. "I thought you wanted my suffering!" A sob caught in her chest. "You want to hurt me, because… because you know I'll never love or want you as you are, and you hate that _you're _the one who's alone and without real friends! Not even Draco likes you, and I-" She sneered at him, despite her tears. "-I despise you."

He pulled back a fist to hit her, swung, but stopped an inch from her cheek. His hand trembled, his face filled with fury and confusion.

"Hit me," she dared him. "You're losing our bet anyway, so what does it matter?"

Showing unexpected restraint, he pulled away and quickly stood up, turning his back on her. She could feel the violence radiating from him; waves of fierce hostility rolled off of him, stifling the very air.

"Draco," she sobbed, her heart breaking into pieces. "If you can hear me, please fight him for me. I love you and want you back!"

Malfoy's hands clenched, the knuckles going white from strain. Swiftly, he took off, heading towards the exit. She didn't hear the far door open, however, meaning he hadn't left the room. Where was he? Had he just gone to walk it off?

A moment later, she got her answer: on the next aisle over, his scream of rage broke the silence in the room, sending a slew of pixies and doxies hiding among the debris into a panicked escape. They fluttered as far from ground zero as they could get, heading into the rafters and dark corners of the room as Malfoy began destroying everything in sight. The sound of splintering wood, of heavy furniture being thrown around, and of glass shattering was frightening.

His tantrum lasted a good ten minutes. In that time, it sounded as if he'd toppled several piles worth of junk, and broken a dozen chairs and mirrors. The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stood on end, and her lungs were nearly choked with fear.

What a vicious, scary display of temper!

As he rounded the corner a few moments later, returning to her, she noted his face, though pink and sweaty, appeared much more controlled and his hands were no longer tight with the need to unleash violence. His hands were loosely held at his sides, but the knuckles were bloody. He paid no attention to that fact as he began to disrobe, though, letting his clothing fall where it may as he closed the distance between them without pause.

Panic welled up in Hermione's chest. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded of him, warily watching as he tossed his belt to the floor, and unzipped his trousers.

He didn't reply, merely continued to strip, his glossy, black eyes locked on hers.

When he was fully naked, he crawled up the bed towards her. "Turn over," he coldly commanded. "I don't want to look at you right now."

Terrified again, Hermione shook her head. Who knew what he'd do to her if she didn't comply, but she was equally as scared of what he _was_ going to do to her if she did.

Undaunted by her rejection, Malfoy forced her onto her belly with rough hands, and he shoved her with strength towards the headboard, lifting her hips. "Better hold on," he fiendishly warned her, already prodding her entrance with the hard, blunt end of his length.

"Don't," was all she had time to sputter, before he'd slammed back inside her with enough force to make her scream from the pain.

Without pause, without mercy he pounded into her, taking what he wanted at the same time as punishing her for her earlier defiance. The muscles in her legs and arms quaked, yet still she struggled against the bonds that held her wrists.

"You're mine," he hissed, slamming even faster and as deep as he could into her. _"MINE!"_

"No," she denied in between sobs. "No!"

She'd thought things couldn't get any worse… until he withdrew from the depths of her vagina rather suddenly, and forced the cheeks of her bum apart. The only thing he spared her was to call his wand to hand and to use it to summon lubrication to fill her back channel. The cold liquid felt awful and alien, and her body tried to expel it.

Before she could manage to do so, Malfoy countered, inching his way inside her back channel. His claim burned just as badly the second time as it had the first. Hermione nearly choked on the pain as he took her slowly, but thoroughly.

"Relax," he said, spanking her, adding to the sting. "You're killing my prick with the clenching."

"Stop, p-please," she pleaded. "It h-h-hurts so m-much!"

To her surprise, he paused and held still. "Relax."

She'd have done anything right then to get the pain to end, so she tried letting her muscles go loose as he wanted, hoping as soon as he received her compliance, he'd pull out and not touch her there again. No such luck. He simply eased the rest of the way into her until his pelvis met her backside and held still, letting her feel his total ownership.

"That's better. Just accept what I do to you, princess," he taunted, "since I'm going to take what I want anyway."

"I h-hate you," she bawled, feeling helpless and despising such a sensation. "I hate you s-s-so much!"

Behind her, she felt his bigger body shake and heard his panting breath escape between clenched teeth, as if her words enraged him once more. His fingers wound through her long, curly hair, knotting it so he could have a firm hold to apply enough pressure to pull her head back. He kept tugging, until her face was turned to the ceiling and she was up on her knees, and the rope holding her wrists went taut.

He pulled his hips back, easing out of her, and then slammed them forward. Hermione yelped at the sharp intensity and the way this new angle kept her from finding any sort of pleasure from his thrusts.

Not that she wanted to feel such a thing at all. Not from him.

He took her just like that, his hand holding her captive in an upright position, his other reaching around to pinch and rub her clit as his hips thrust over and over. "Feel me, princess," he hissed in her ear, malevolence tainting every word. "Feel me take you, fill you where no one has before – where it's _forbidden_. Feel how your body likes it." He rubbed the wet between her legs, slicking it between her lower lips. "Feel how powerless you really are, my little whore."

"How dare you! I am _not_ a whore," she snapped, furious at being called such a horrid name. "And you may force me, but you'll _never_ own me, you bastard."

He pressed his mouth over her ear. "We'll see about that."

Once more demonstrating how erratic and unpredictable he could be, Malfoy suddenly stopped shagging her and pulled out. He had her flipped onto her back once more, legs spread before she could blink, though.

Pinning her hips to the bed with his hands, he entered her swollen, much-abused core again. Rear-end burning, hips aching, and the heart of her femininity viciously stretched once more, and without care, Hermione whimpered.

Malfoy paused.

"Sore, princess?"

He seemed pleased by the prospect.

"Why not just kill me and be done with it?" she snapped, blinking sweat and tears from her lashes. Her wrists burned from the rope, too.

He leaned over her, setting a brutal rhythm, pistoning in and out of her body for his own pleasure. "I told you: because you're mine." He punctuated that claim with a hard slam of his hips. "I've waited years to have at you."

Wha-? Years? What was he talking about?

It dawned on her quite suddenly what he was implying.

"Are… are you saying you're the reason Draco tormented me all this time – _because _you_ wanted my attention?!_"

Malfoy's shark-like smirk widened.

Anger burned in Hermione's guts. "All these years, _you've_ been the one prodding him to be cruel, haven't you? You've encouraged him to be mean and spiteful." She barked a cynical laugh. "Well, of course you did! You're his _evil_ side!" The ramifications of that revelation slammed into her hard. "You're the reason he's been so intolerable. But the Mark is somehow… it's slowly splitting you apart from him – the real him. He's becoming who he should have been if you'd never been in the picture."

"I saved his life!" he thundered. "Without me, he'd have been even more pussified than he already is. He'd have folded under his father's lash a dozen times. He'd have refused to take the Mar-" Abruptly, she stopped, reconsidering his words. "I've given the whelp purpose and strength," he finally hissed. "I made it possible for us to have _you!"_

"You're delusional. All you've done is fuelled his hatred and prejudice!" she fumed. "You _ruined_ the good man he could have been!"

He pressed his forehead into hers, staring her in the eye, and gave her a heartless, triumphant grin. "And I ruined you, too, let's not forget."

She snarled at him, baring her teeth, her anger hitting a whole new level of loathing. "Fuck you!"

"Gladly," he growled back.

Leaning away from her, he pressed his palms down upon her shoulders and pinned them to the mattress. Then, he dropped his hips and went for it with all his strength. He forced himself into her so hard Hermione was crying again, her anger draining away in the face of such awful pain.

"Take it," he grunted, tensing up. "Take me!"

The bed squeaked loudly in the otherwise still room, its ancient springs performing a rhythmic counter to his frantic grunting, and her mewling cries.

Finally, with a roar and last violent surge, Malfoy stilled and released, coming deep inside her. In that moment, where ecstasy met its pinnacle, his face was free of all its usual negativity, filled instead with a dark, rapturous beauty.

"Fuck, _yes!"_ he cried out, laughing with triumph, his whole body seizing as he ejaculated into her.

Merlin, he was as low as they came! To Malfoy, this act was all about taking, not about giving. There was no care, no goodness in it with him. And her role? She was merely his whore, as he'd pointed out earlier - a hole to fill, a warm body to punish... simply because he could.

Sick bastard.

She knew he was finished when he slumped forward and stopped making those god-awful victory noises.

Hermione turned her head and let her tears flow freely once more. "I never thought myself capable of hating someone this much." She sniffed and looked at him from her peripheral vision. "Don't you see? You lost your stupid bet before it even began."

He stared at her for several heartbeats, panting, red faced, considering her words.

"We'll see," was all he said in reply.

Pulling out of her, he scooted back down the bed, and then made his feet. His legs held, steady as tree trunks… unlike hers, which were shaking so hard, she couldn't hold them up. Malfoy's recovery time was completely abnormal - as freakish as he was.

He began gathering his clothing from where he'd discarded it earlier, and redressed. When he was done, he reached into the bag he'd brought into the room earlier, and pulled out a Slytherin girl's school uniform. He tossed it so it landed near her head. There were no shoes, socks, or a bra, but there were a pair of what looked to be cotton, blue knickers that had never been used.

"The Parkinson bint won't miss it."

He tossed her wand on top of the pile of clothes. He'd gambled correctly that she couldn't have reached for it fast enough to make a difference just then, as everything hurt too much for such sudden movements. Besides, he was backing up already, wand out and pointed at her wrists.

"There's food in the bag, and ointment to help soothe the ache."

"Thought you liked me starving and in pain," she tiredly pointed out.

Malfoy stared at her through an enigmatic, black gaze for several seconds, before that arrogant smirk of his was back in place. "Can't have you fainting in the hallways and calling attention to the fact you've been missing from the dining hall this afternoon and evening. As for the medicine, you go back to your common room looking like you've been fucked to within an inch of your life -like you currently do- and the Idiot Brigade will ask questions. Can't have that either, can we?" He lost his amusement a moment later, menace darkening his countenance once more. "Remember: you tell a soul about any of this, and I'll punish Draco in a way you'll never forget."

With that, he waved his wand and released the rope from around her wrists. He then spun on his heel and hastily walked away.

For almost an hour, Hermione simply laid in the bed, too tired and sore to move. She stared up at the tattered blue curtains above, her mind numb with shock from the events of this afternoon and evening. Absently, she realized that this bed had come from a Ravenclaw house, and wondered whose bed it had been, and why it had been moved here.

After a looooooong time, she finally felt strong enough to push herself up into a sitting position. Reaching for her wand, she _Accio_'d Malfoy's bag to her hand. Inside, she found a small tub of pain ointment, just as he'd promised. Taking it out, she struggled with the lid a bit before prying it off, and slathered the eucalyptus-scented paste everywhere across her skin where there was even the slightest bruise showing. She healed her wrists with a charm to remove the rope burn marks, but she knew of no spell to ease the ache in her muscles; they were going to be sore for a while.

When that was done, she noted that there was, indeed, food inside the bag as well - more cheese and bread, and a green apple. Her stomach churned at the thought of eating right then, so instead, she pushed the bag aside and slowly dragged on the clothes Malfoy had left for her. It took a few modifications with her wand, transfiguring size and House designations, but in the end, she had a new school uniform that fit. She supposed stealing someone else's winter uniform to make-up for disintegrating hers earlier that afternoon was Malfoy's twisted way of making things up to her.

Whatever.

Parkinson's family was rich, anyway. The witch could afford the loss of some clothes without blinking; she'd probably just replace the outfit this Christmas break at Madam Malkin's.

Dangling her legs over the edge of the bed, she summoned her shoes and socks to her hand with her wand as well. Pulling them on took a few tries, given how it hurt to raise her knees.

Another ten minutes, and she'd made her feet. Something was missing, though…

"Oh! _Accio_ my red ribbon!"

The ribbon floated up off the floor on the other side of the bed and flew into her hand. She gathered her messy, frizzy curls into a ponytail and tied it off at the nape of her neck with the hair accessory.

Wanting to do nothing more than crawl into her own bed and sleep a million years, she trundled towards the exit and left the Room of Hidden Things, hoping never to return to such a place of awful memories.

It only occurred to her once she was back in her bed in Gryffindor tower -having by-passed her friends' questions and offers to join them for study groups or evening board games in the common room with the excuse of extreme exhaustion- that Draco had been in the Room of Hidden Things when she'd entered it earlier that day.

Why had he even been in there?

**x~~~~~x**

Sunday came and went, and Hermione couldn't find hide or hair of Draco no matter where she went in the castle. No one else had admitted to seeing him either, and that frightened her. There was simply no telling what Malfoy might be doing in Draco's body – especially to others. He was an unstable sociopath with psychotic tendencies.

She spent an exhausting day keeping a sharp eye out for him and going up and down staircases, ignoring her protesting muscles, all to no avail. As a result, she didn't get to her homework until late that afternoon, and was awake until midnight trying to finish it.

On Monday morning, Draco was absent from the dining hall for breakfast. Teddy Nott, who had also been conspicuously absent yesterday, sauntered in alone. He looked deeply unhappy as he scanned the crowd. When their eyes locked, he signalled her to meet him outside in the corridor. She made up an excuse to Ginny, leaving her satchel with her friend, and hurried outside the Great Hall.

Teddy led her to a side corridor and into a comfortably spaced broom closet. "Draco's been tearing himself up since he came back to our common room on Saturday night," he told her as soon as the door was shut and he'd bespelled it for privacy. "He told me everything. Apparently, the side you've named 'Malfoy' wore itself out... um, abusing you."

He looked decidedly uncomfortable breaching the subject, and Hermione wondered what exactly Teddy knew - the awful details, or just an overview?

Her cheeks flushed with her own embarrassment.

"Draco was able to regain control of his body by the time he'd made it to the dungeon that night. He came to me right away, asked for help, and explained why he didn't want you helping him anymore." He sighed, looking truly concerned. "Are you... all right? Do you want me to say anything to Dumbledore?"

Hastily, Hermione shook her head. "We can't tell anyone. He's... Malfoy's threatened to hurt Draco if we go to the teachers or the Ministry." She clenched her hands before her, as if praying. "I really think he's capable of doing it, too. He's vindictive enough to do anything, even if he hurts himself in the process. He takes pleasure in pain - anyone's, even his own."

Teddy began swearing under his breath. "Merlin, this sucks! How are we supposed to help D? This is so completely beyond my experience, and I'm guessing yours, too. How can we keep him from hurting _you_ again, much less prevent him from forcing Draco to do even more deranged or dangerous things?" As if realising he'd put his foot in his mouth, he reached out and cautiously placed his bigger hand over her clasped ones. "Christ, I'm really sorry, Granger. I didn't mean to... to make light of..." He shook his head, obviously remorseful. "I'm sorry."

"You only spoke the truth, Teddy," she replied, giving him a forgiving smile.

"Man, you really are goody-good to the core, aren't you?" he asked, his tone wistful. He stroked the back of a knuckle across her cheek. "Draco wasn't exaggerating. I'm glad. He needs someone like you in his life. He's been alone for a long time."

Hermione frowned. "He's never alone. Parkinson's always hung all over him, and he has friends - you, for one."

Teddy shook his head. "He has conveniences and lackeys - and believe me, Parkinson definitely qualifies under both definitions. You're right, though: I am his only long-time friend, but even then he's always kept me at a distance. At first, I'd thought it was single-child syndrome, you know? He _can_ be a total spoiled git at times. But I was wrong. He's alone because his father has kept him that way, on purpose. I told you, Lucius is cold and calculating, and mean as a snake. I'm sure he had a slew of grandiose plans for D to be the first leader of a 'pure-blood only' political party or some such shite. But with the Dark Lord's reappearance, everything's changed. This year, Draco's even more isolated."

"Because of the Dark Mark," Hermione guessed.

Teddy nodded. "That's why I'm glad he has you. He needs someone he can rely upon, someone who's not afraid to see him for who and what he is, and who will fight to keep him away from Lucius' and the Dark Lord's plans for him. He needs you, Granger. I think..." He reached up and gently stroked over the red ribbon woven into a strand of her hair at the side of her temple. He considered it, turning it this way and that, narrowing his eyes as if trying to discern the ribbon's secrets. "...he always has."

Oddly disconcerted by someone touching the ribbon other than her or Draco, Hermione gently extricated it from Teddy's hold without making it seem as if she was chastising him for touching without permission. "You're saying, you think what's happening now with Draco and I might be fated?"

Her companion dropped his hand and shrugged. "I think a lot of things happening right now in this world are. Potter, for instance, and the re-emergence of the Dark Lord. Fated, according to Trelawney's cracked-up prophecy." He held up a hand to halt her obvious question. "My father's in Azkaban right now because of the fight in the Department of Mysteries, remember? I know all about it."

"Oh, yes. That's right."

Teddy chuckled, but his tone was all dry and cynical when he said, "Don't let it bother you. I'm positively thrilled the bastard's tied up in a dark, fungi-infested cell and living in constant fear of Dementors. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving wizard." He waved the subject away, returning to the original topic, clearly uncomfortable talking about his father. "Listen, D wanted me to be sure you were healing and taking care of yourself as you ought to. We should get back to the dining hall so you can eat. Also, if you need me to sneak into the Hospital Ward later and check out Pomfrey's stores for you, I'm good at fishing."

Hermione looked down at her shoes, feeling awkward over the topic, as well as the kind, but bizarre offer her new friend had made. "Thank you, but I don't want you getting into any trouble for me. I'm fine, really. I keep a stash of Muggle pain medicine in my trunk and I've been taking it when needed. But Teddy-" She glanced up at him, gripping the sides of her robes to keep her hands from shaking. "It's not me that needs looking after right now. I'm worried about Draco. None of this was his fault. Please, if you know where he is, tell me."

Teddy hesitated. "He said he doesn't want to see you anymore. He thinks he's stained your relationship permanently, and he doesn't trust himself to be alone with you ever again. He told me that he's planning on dropping out of school and going home today."

A small sob escaped her lips before she would quell it with a shaking hand over her mouth. Dropping out of school? If he did that, the chances of her seeing him again before they crossed wands on the battlefield would most likely be zero percent. By then, Malfoy would have taken over fully... and Draco would be forever lost.

"No, he can't," she whispered, agonized by the thought.

Teddy sighed, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair. "Merlin, I'm really sorry for the both of you. You don't deserve this. Maybe it's best if… if he does go away, though. At least then you'd be safe."

That thought had Hermione panicking, and the red ribbon in her hair whispering in her mind:

_Do not let him fall into ankoku… into darkness!_

"No, he can't go home! We can't let him!" she argued. "If he stands in Voldemort's presence again, and his mind and heart are still fractured, Malfoy will gain all the dark magical strength he needs to destroy Draco forever," she stated with all surety. "I just know it's true!"

To her surprise, Teddy's arms were abruptly around her, and he was cradling her to his chest. His kind touch was enough to send her jittery nerves and frayed emotions right over the edge. An agonized cry was torn from her chest as the reality of what had been done to her this weekend hit her hard. She pressed her face into his chest and let herself come to terms with it, so she could move past it.

_Say it_, she thought. _Say it and face it._

Rape. She'd been raped again. She'd been abused, tortured, and emotionally scarred by a person she'd trusted and loved... No, not by him, but by this other side of him that dark magic had given a life of its own. Draco and his doppelganger shared a face, but not a heart.

Now Draco planned to go away - to let Malfoy win, all to keep her safely out of his darker side's clutches.

God, the situation really was like Jekyll and Hyde - and she was caught in the middle, loving one, hating the other. Theirs was a collision that some weird intuition told her would change this war's outcome. Yet, everyone knew how Jekyll's tale ended: with Hyde in complete control and Jekyll effectively no more. Would it happen like that for Draco, too?

"I can't let Malfoy win," she fiercely resolved, dashing away her momentary upset with the back of one hand while stroking the ribbon in her hair with the other. "I'll find a way to get rid of him! I'll make a new fate for Draco - no matter what it takes!"

Teddy clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "All right. Say I was to tell you his location, Granger, what would you do?"

Hermione straightened her spine and met her friend's eye, stepping out of his embrace. "I'd convince him not to throw his life away – not to let that bastard side of him win! I wouldn't let him give up fighting to reclaim his life. I'd convince him that our plan at the Ministry is the way to go, and do whatever research was necessary to find out all I could about the Dark Mark and how to shut it down permanently. I'd lie for him, steal for him - I've done as much for Harry and Ron over the years. I'd certainly do it for Draco. I'd protect him, even if I had to stand up to Malfoy and Voldemort both!"

"He'll hurt you if you stay with him," Teddy reminded her. "He may even kill you. You love him that much to risk such a thing?"

"I do."

Her friend let out a deep sigh and stepped back, releasing his hold on her. "The Room of Erised. He's been camping out there since he left you. He won't go back to the dorms. I've been bringing him what he needs. I suspect he's punishing himself with memories of what happened there between you two before, which is why he chose that room now."

She turned to go, but Teddy grabbed her hand and stayed her a moment longer. "You'd better have meant it, Granger."

"I meant it," she reaffirmed. "I swear it on my wand, I meant every word."

Taking her at her vow, he let her go, and she hurried from the closet without a backwards glance. Rushing down the corridor and up the stairs towards the fourth floor, she hurried past her fellow classmates, the resident ghosts, the portraits, and even Professor McGonagall, ignoring them. All of her focus was for Draco right then.

**x~~~~~x**

Hermione was huffing and puffing from all the running around when she reached the door to the Room of Erised a few minutes later, and paused to take precious seconds to catch her breath. When she pulled on the handle, she noted the door wasn't locked – probably so Teddy could get in easily. She opened the door and shut it behind her quickly, locking it and leaning against it to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting in the room.

Draco was lazing about on the floor on top of a coverlet from his dorm bed, another blanket lying to the side of him. He had a pillow under his head and was staring at the ceiling, deep in thought, lounging in a dishevelled pair of black trousers and a white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled and the tails hanging out. He sat up as she entered, clearly having expected Ted, but froze when she stepped fully into the room.

The moment he zeroed in on her, his face went so pale it almost seemed translucent, his eyes flared wide, and his breathing jumped. His anxiety hit the roof.

Hermione crossed the room, heading towards him, but he was up in a flash and backing away with his arms out. "Stay away. Don't come near me!"

His panicked tone had her heart clenching, but she kept moving forward, ignoring his warning.

"Granger, please, just-" His back hit the wall, and his eyes went even wider. "Leave! I'll hurt you again!"

When only a couple of feet separated them, she did stop… but not for the reasons he might have suspected. "I forgive you," she said, her voice tremulous with emotion. "Draco, none of this is your fault."

Frantically, he shook his head. "It _is_ my fault. All of it! I unleashed him when I took the Mark! Somehow… He's me, don't you get it? He's a part of who I am… and clearly, I want to hurt you. I'm sick. _Sick!_ Don't you see?"

She took a single step towards him, but he flinched back. He'd have probably tried to crawl in between the stones to get away from her, if he could.

"We'll find a way to stop him - together," she told him, tears blurring her vision again. "Please just don't give up on me, Draco. Let me help you. I love you."

"You can't love me!" he refuted with a shout. "You have to hate me now! I hurt you." He started crying, but angrily brushed the tears off his cheeks even as they fell. "I hurt you so much, baby. I… I'm _evil._"

She started crying again, his pain becoming hers. "You're not. Don't you understand? It was him, all this time - this other side of you. He's made you cruel, but that's not who you are. This, right here, right now, this is who you really are. Don't you see it? This man, this heart…" She reached out lay her hand upon his chest, and could feel the organ underneath pounding out a rapid tattoo under her fingertips. "This is the side of you worth saving - worth loving."

"I don't understand you! There's nothing about me worth that much! I've spent years tormenting you and your friends. A part of me enjoyed it, even." He shook his head. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, much less anything more." His wounded eyes met hers. "For both our sakes, please, Granger, just walk away."

She was desperate, knowing he would run out that door very soon if she didn't do something. One way or another, he meant to leave her.

She wouldn't allow him to give up on them without a fight!

Reaching for the clasp of her robes, she undid it and let it slide to the floor. Then, she removed her jumper and tie, and started unbuttoning her shirt.

Draco's breathing accelerated. "Don't do that," he warned. "Stop."

She slipped her shirt from her shoulders and reached behind to unhitch her bra. Shimmy-ing it from her shoulders, it fell to the floor as well. Reaching behind her, she unbuttoned her skirt and unzipped it, letting gravity take it to the floor. She kicked her shoes off.

"Please, stop," he begged. "Christ, Hermione, don't do this to me."

She hooked her thumbs on either side of her knickers and lowered them from her body, and while she was down there, she removed her socks as well. Finally, she was completely naked for him, standing in a stray beam of greyish light from the window, unashamed of offering everything she was to Draco.

She held her arms out to him, supplicating. "Come make love to me. Help me erase his touch, and remember only yours."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his face tortured. "Hermione, you don't want me like this. I'm not worthy to touch you. You're so good, and I'm so… so fucked up!"

She closed the distance between them while he wasn't looking, and wrapped her arms about his neck, pressing her body against his. He fought her, grabbing her hips and pushing, trying to get her to relinquish her hold on him. She refused, standing firm, despite her protesting muscles. "Love me, Draco," she huskily murmured, lifting her head and pressing her lips to his. "Love me as I love you."

His lids peeked open a margin, and in his gaze was hunger, desperation, and fear. He was like a victim of starvation staring down at that first bite of real food, wondering if it would kill him or relieve him. "What if _he_ comes forward again? He's not conscious right now. What he did to you… I can feel that it exhausted him. But, what if… I don't want to touch you again as _him_."

"Just hold onto me," she told him, placing small kisses on his face, "and trust in us. Trust in me to handle him."

He shuddered, even as his fingers gripped her sides, pulling her in. "Merlin, I want you. It's been too long – just you and me," he said. "But I'm scared of hurting you, too."

She kissed him with all of the love and passion she felt for him then, forcing his lips open. When her tongue dipped into his mouth, as he'd taught her how to do, he groaned, and gave in.

They were slow to touch, to taste. He was oh-so-careful, not aggressive, letting her lead them. She undressed him, taking her time with each task, as he had done with her that night in the Prefect's bathroom. When she knelt to remove his pants and shoes, she stroked his hard length and took him in her mouth. She looked up between them and watched him watching her, his eyes glazed with want. When her tongue lapped at his tip, he moaned, and twined his fingers through her hair, encouraging her with caresses.

Feeling the change in his breathing, signalling he was climbing towards his end, she let him go with a kiss and regained her feet. Taking hold of his hand, she led him to the small pile of blankets on the floor, and guided him down onto his back.

As she knelt over him, the ribbon in her hair gave off a red, warm glow, cocooning them in its magical radiance. Draco was careful not to touch it, but as she claimed his mouth again, she noted there were no negative effects this time as they touched.

"Take me," he pleaded

The same words were so much different from two days earlier; Malfoy used them as a weapon, whereas Draco spoke them as an offering. Clearly, their split was widening, and Draco was changing. He was gentling.

Hermione took his hard length in her hand and guided him into her wet, still-swollen body. There was only a little discomfort for her – hardly enough to notice. Instead, there was a wonderful melding of their bodies as she slid down his shaft. They both gasped at the exquisite sensation of coming together again.

She entwined her hands in his and made love to him.

They locked eyes, watching each other as she slowly moved up and down on him. Their exhalations tickled each other's faces, matching the rise and fall of their bodies. As his orgasm built, she was relieved to see the irises of his eyes were still the same beautiful grey that she adored.

"I'm close. Are you?" he rasped.

She nodded. Her belly ignited with little electric shocks that built to a fast crescendo. "Yes."

"Tell me," they both said at the same time in the same desperate voice.

"I love you," they responded together, their hearts as one.

They came together, in perfect accord, and when she collapsed atop him, he wrapped his arms about her. This time, he didn't let her go.

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED…_**

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN:**

**Ankoku** = Japanese for "darkness" (the ultimate kind), made up of the kanji 暗for "dark, obscure, in secret", and 黒"black, dark, evil".

**Musical selection recommended for this chapter:**

"**_The Beauty & The Tragedy"_**** by Trading Yesterday**


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